UPAS  TRE 


ROBERT  MCMURDY 


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r          /Y 


THE  UPAS  TREE 


" Ah,  I  have  sighed  to  rest  me-'' 


THE  UPAS  TREE 


BY 

ROBERT  McMURDY 


Illustrations  by 

WILLIAM  OTTMAN 


F.  J.  SCHULTE   &  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS  CHICAGO 

LONDON:    B.  F.  STEVENS   &    BROWN 


COPYRIGHT,  1912 
BY  ROBERT  McMURDY 

H 
All  rights  reserved 


THE  UPAS  TEEE 


2227847 


PREFACE 

H 

^T^HE  apocryphal  upas  tree,  planted  by  Mahomet 
as  a  punishment  for  sin,  visited  with  the  blight 
of  death  every  creature  that  remained  within  its 
shadow.  It  was  solitary — a  forbidding  sentinel  in  a 
barren,  burnt-up  waste.  The  juice,  providing  poison 
for  implements  of  war,  and  used  in  executing  the 
death  penalty,  was  gathered  by  criminals.  They  ap- 
proached with  the  wind.  If  they  returned,  they  were 
pardoned ;  but  nine  out  of  ten,  benumbed  by  the  tree's 
malignant  vapor,  were  seized  with  spasms  and  fell 
dead.  It  was  the  tree  of  sorrows,  watered  only  by 
the  tears  of  men. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  YOUTH 15 

II  MADNESS         ........  23 

III  PLUTO  OR  PLATO 29 

IV  A  LITTLE  MENDICANT      ....  44 
V  THE   RED  GATE 48 

VI  NEWPORT 58 

VII  HOME,  SWEET  HOME 66 

VIII  THE  TRAP 75 

IX  INTO  DUST 91 

X  A  WOMAN  SCORNED 97 

XI  IN  THE  TOMBS 106 

XII  SUN  AND  SHADOW 116 

XIII  TEMPTATION 122 

XIV  PREPARATION 135 

XV  GENERAL  SESSIONS 144 

XVI  THE  CASE  OF  THE  STATE     .     .     .  154 

XVII  WIFE  AND  MOTHER 168 

XVIII  A  DANGEROUS  WITNESS     ....  174 

XIX  EXPLAINING 179 

XX  AT  A  DISADVANTAGE 192 

XXI  THE  VERDICT 201 

XXII  THE  NEMESIS  212 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIII  GLOOM .     .  226 

XXIV  THE  STRUGGLE 234 

XXV     THE  PATHS  OF  PREJUDICE    .     .     .  241 

XXVI     RETROSPECT 252 

XXVII     NINETY-TWO  DAYS 259 

XXVIII     THE  LETTER       269 

XXIX     GETHSEMANE 276 

XXX     LEX  TALIONIS     .......  280 

H 

BECKWITH'S   CONFESSION 297 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


DRAWINGS  BY  WILLIAM  OTTMAN 


FACING 
PAGE 


"Ah,  I  have  sighed  to  rest  me." 

Frontispiece 

"You  must  be  practical:  we  make  judges  here!"  80 
"Let  me  tell  you  that  this  lawyer  is  not  for  sale."  216 
"But  here!  this  confession  isn't  signed."  .  .  288 


The  Upas  Tree 

* 

CHAPTER  I 
YOUTH 

This  fair  orphan  ward 

SeemM  the  sole  human  creature  that  lived  in  the  heart 
Of  that  stern,  rigid  man.  — Robert  Bulwer  Lytton. 

* 

T  T  was  the  last  day  of  the  high-school  baseball 
season,  and  the  nine  were  feasting  at  the  home 
of  Beckwith  Miller.  Goodfellowship  was  rampant — 
the  natural,  disinterested,  ebullient,  ringing  comrade- 
ship of  youth.  Some  years  before,  when  Beckwith 
was  on  the  team,  these  dinners  had  been  inaugurated 
by  his  father.  The  custom  then  established  still  ob- 
tained: each  boy  stood  upon  his  feet  and  forced  him- 
self into  a  semblance  of  public  speaking.  Good,  indif- 
ferent or  poor — no  matter  what  was  the  quality  of  the 
utterance,  the  room  resounded  with  approval. 

"Hurrah!  Hurrah!"  "Good  for  Billy!"  "A  home- 
run,  by  thunder!"  "Give  him  the  pennant!"  "Our 
own  Neddie !"  "Crown  him !"  "He's  the  whole  nine !" 
"You're  a  brick!"  Such  was  the  rollicking  comment. 

15 


THE    UPAS     TREE 

"Now,  Beck,  the  valedictory — come,  fellows,  the 
game's  called!"  And  Beckwith  rose. 

His  mother  led  into  the  room  a  neighbor,  Dr.  Wag- 
ner, and  his  daughter. 

"Three  cheers  for  Alice!"  The  boys  rent  the 
air  again.  "Tiger!"  yelled  one,  and  they  gave  a 
great  yell  and  then  settled  down. 

"Well,  boys,  I  will  be  brief — as  usual.  I  want  to 
add  to  your  vocabulary  and  give  you  a  chance  to 
add  to  your  manhood.  I  want  you  to  learn  the  mean- 
ing of  resiliency — the  ability  to  recover — rebound — 
from  a  fall  or  strain.  It's  all  right  to  nurse  an  in- 
jured finger,  but  you  must  get  back  into  the  game. 
It's  no  discredit  to  be  knocked  down ;  but  not  to  get 
right  up  again  is  shameful.  You  may  be  forgiven  if 
you  fail,  but  never  if  you  do  not  try  again.  Now 
you've  heard — will  you  heed?" 

"We  will,"  yelled  all  the  boys  together,  and  they 
beat  their  hands  until  Alice,  laughing,  held  her  ears. 

"A  gem!"  exclaimed  Dr.  Wagner  as  he  grasped 
Beckwith's  hand.  His  admiration  had  already  been 
won.  On  an  earlier  occasion,  at  the  high-school  gradu- 
ation exercises,  Beckwith  had  delivered  an  oration  on 
the  public  school  system — "The  American  Crucible" 
was  the  title — which  had  charmed  the  audience  and 

16 


YOUTH 

had  put  the  name  of  "Beck"  Miller  in  the  mouths  of 
the  entire  neighborhood.  This  cherished  triumph  had 
not  turned  the  young  man's  head,  but  had  been  no 
small  factor  in  determining  his  choice  of  the  law  as  a 
profession. 

The  feast  was  over,  and  the  company  gathered  about 
Alice  at  the  piano — an  instrument  left  over  from  the 
early  days  of  Mrs.  Miller,  but  which  still  had  music 
in  its  soul.  "Nut  Brown  Maid"  they  sang  as  Alice 
blushed  and  the  boys  made  merry,  their  arms  inter- 
laced, with  the  abandon  of  the  young.  "John  Brown's 
Body,"  "We  Won't  Go  Home  'til  Morning,"  and 
all  the  rest  of  that  family  of  songs  came  in  due  order, 
and  then  a  boisterous  contention  for  the  honor  of 
walking  home  with  Alice. 

A  second  later  they  seated  Mrs.  Miller,  formed 
a  ring  around  her,  placed  on  her  head  a  wreath  and 
hailed  her  as  the  diamond  queen,  the  significance  of 
which  Beckwith  explained  to  her. 

When  the  party  broke  up  the  young  men  kissed 
Mrs.  Miller  goodbye.  At  the  gate  they  serenaded, 
gave  another  three  cheers  for  "Beck,"  and  off  they 
went  with  Alice  and  her  father,  chattering,  volatile 
and  happy. 

17 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"Those  are  great  boys,  mother." 
"And  that  is  a  great  girl,  Beckwith !" 
The  mother's  remark  apparently  passed  over  his 
head.     He  took  on  an  air  of  gratification. 

"What  do  you  think — the  Doctor  has  just  laid  a 
little  plan  before  me.  After  his  wife's  death  he  fell 
to  philosophizing  and  analyzing — got  to  dwelling  on 
the  needs  of  the  masses — and  he  has  organized  the 
Public  Bath  Institute,  to  provide  free  baths  for  the 
poor  and  drinking-fountains  for  the  public.  He  asked 
me  tonight  to  become  a  member  of  the  board  of  direct- 
ors. I'll  be  duly  advertised  as  counsel,  and  it  will 
lead  to  other  things.  In  fact,  I  think  in  time  I'll  be 
the  Doctor's  personal  attorney — and  I'll  have  his  in- 
fluence, too." 

Mrs.  Miller  was  silent. 

"You  think  it  is  wrong  to  capitalize  charity, 
mother!  Our  rector  says  the  highest  occupation  is 
doing  good  and  earning  a  living  at  the  same  time — 
because  it  fits  him — but  that  will  be  my  situation  in 
the  Bath  Institute. — You  are  not  convinced!  Well, 
dear  mother,  if  father  had  left  us  something  more 
than  this  home,  or  if  I  had  not  chosen  the  starving 
profession,  or  if  I  had  not  relied  too  confidently  on 
my  popularity  and  too  soon  assumed  the  burdens  of 

18 


YOUTH 

a  law  office  in  a  great  city  like  New  York,  or  if  my 
practice  were  not  among  such  poor  people,  or  if  the 
torment  of  my  creditors  were  not  in  truth  brought 
home  to  you,  or — we'll  cut  the  list  off  here — it  might 
be  different.  Besides,  it's  a  good  work  and  appeals 
to  me.  The  motives  of  the  best  of  us  are  mixed,  no 
matter  what  we  do." 

"I  suppose  this  connection  is  proper  enough,  my 
son,  but  I  hope  a  dollar  viewpoint  is  not  springing 
up  in  you — it  is  so  corroding." 

"And  debts  undermine — but  there  is  no  real  room 
for  such  thoughts  in  this  matter — mother,  do  you 
want  me  to  marry  Alice?" 

"Why,  Beckwith,  you  shouldn't  ask  me  such  a  ques- 
tion. If  I  did  I  wouldn't  say  so.  Everybody  is 
headstrong  in  such  affairs,  and  you  are  in  every- 
thing, dear  boy." 

"Which  means  that  you  would !  She's  not  long  out 
of  her  teens — I'm  nearly  thirty." 

"A  proper  difference,"  interjected  Mrs.  Miller. 

"I  vow!  You're  really  in  earnest.  Come  now — 
she  has  always  been  a  pet  of  yours — you  feel  that 
she  would  fit  in  here  and  we  could  all  live  together 
— and  'her  dad  has  the  rocks,'  as  those  boys  would 
say — considerations  of  convenience — and  a  dollar 

19 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

viewpoint!  You'll  break  your  boy's  heart!"  An 
explosive  laugh  escaped  him,  as  he  put  his  hands 
affectionately  on  his  mother's  head. 

"It's  no  use  for  me  to  argue  with  you — you  make 
black  white " 

"And  'the  worse  appear  the  better  reason,'  I  sup- 
pose. Well,  to  bed!  to  bed.  It's  late — for  us!" 

Conferences  regarding  a  common  interest  drew 
Beckwith  not  infrequently  to  Dr.  Wagner's  home, 
where  Alice  always  met  him  with  a  warm  welcome. 
Once  she  gave  him,  with  becoming  grace,  a  bouquet 
picked  by  her  own  hand,  in  her  own  small  garden,  and 
touched  a  tender  chord  when  she  gently  reminded 
him  that  the  flowers  were  for  his  mother,  adding  art- 
fully that  she  would  trust  him  to  deliver  them  faith- 
fully. On  his  next  visit  he  bore  a  beautiful  gift-book 
as  a  remembrance  from  his  household,  and  Alice 
agreed  to  keep  and  treasure  the  mother's  part  of  the 
present,  but  would  not  promise  as  to  his. 

The  season's  first  snow  had  fallen,  and  mother  and 
son  were  seated  at  their  dinner  table. 

"I've  some  good  news,"  exclaimed  Beckwith. 
"When  I  became  connected  with  the  Bath  Institute  I 

20 


YOUTH 

fell  into  intimate  relations  with  Emanuel  Hodgkin, 
one  of  the  directors.  Very  shortly  he  commenced  to 
show  symptoms  of  becoming  a  client,  and  a  few 
weeks  ago  he  gave  me  a  little  business — to  try  me  out, 
I  imagine.  Anyway,  I  put  my  best  foot  forward  and 
was  successful.  Now — today — he  has  given  me  all  his 
legal  work,  and  it  means  a  good  deal." 

"That's  fine,  Beckwith.  Will  it  put  an  end  to  our 
struggles  ?" 

"Yes  and  no!  It  will  end  your  troubles  on  my 
account,  though,  I  hope.  It  is  encouraging  at  this 
time ;  for,  unless  Dr.  Wagner's  health  improves,  I  may 
not  have  his  help  and  influence  a  great  while  longer." 

"Who  is  this  Mr.  Hodgkin?  I  never  heard  you 
speak  of  him  before." 

"Rather  interesting.  You  would  call  him  a  recluse. 
He  is  well-to-do ;  at  least  he  does  nothing  but  look  after 
his  property — made  his  money  in  New  Orleans  as  a 
banker — a  large  part,  no  doubt,  the  difference  be- 
tween discount  and  interest,  which,  they  say,  made 
New  England  rich.  When  the  Civil  War  broke  out — 
thirteen  years  ago — he  moved  to  New  York,  and  here 
he  has  doubled  his  fortune.  Canny — very  canny  ! — 
and  'near' ;  but  he  has  my  hobby " 

"A  fisherman?" 

21 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"Yes — and  he  has  another  hobby;  but  I'm  not  so 
sure  I'll  adopt  that.  We  would  neither  of  us  worry 
over  debts  a  moment  longer  if  I  should — it's  the  only 
being  in  whom  he  has  any  real  interest — a  former 
ward — an  orphan — his  niece." 


CHAPTER  II 
MADNESS 

.^.     .     like  the  bat  of  Indian  brakes, 
Her  pinions  fan  the  wound  she  makes,    ' 
And,  soothing  thus  the  dreamer 's  pain, 
She  drinks  his  life-blood  from  the  vein. 

— Scott. 

* 

T3ERTHA  HODGKIN'S  mother  had  died  when 
"^^  she  was  very  young,  and  her  father  a  few  years 
later.  Her  own  patrimony  exhausted,  her  indulgent 
uncle  furnished  every  luxury,  providing  her  when 
she  was  not  abroad  with  the  best  suite  in  the  little 
hotel  where  he  lived.  She  was  no  exception  to  the 
proverbial  rule  respecting  an  only  child. 

Beckwith  could  not  refuse  to  meet  this  favored 
niece,  but  he  realized  that  he  must  be  cautious,  for 
a  misstep  might  lose  his  only  indispensable  client. 
On  the  other  hand  his  material  prospects  seemed  rosy 
if  the  affair  should  end  at  the  altar.  It  was  a  new 
venture  for  him.  He  knew  little  of  woman's  world — 
had  spent  his  life  with  boys  and  men — and  was 
embarrassed  in  the  company  of  women.  More  than 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

one  mother  had  distrusted  him  because  he  would  not 
look  her  in  the  eye.  The  niece  was  a  year  younger 
than  he,  but  greatly  his  senior  in  experience — enough 
so  that  she  made  him  feel  perfectly  at  ease  from  the 
very  first  moment.  She  knew  her  uncle's  belief  in 
his  lawyer's  future  and  was  anxious  to  please  her 
benefactor. 

With  customary  care  Beckwith  analyzed  her. 
Slightly  above  medium  height,  an  erect  carriage 
made  her  seem  tall.  Black  hair,  eyebrows  and  eye- 
lashes, a  heavy  forehead,  large,  square  jaw,  swinging 
gait  and  quick  movements  betokened,  and  her  air 
bespoke,  a  dauntless  and  willful  woman.  Moreover, 
a  southern  warmth  and  an  undeniable  charm  almost 
carried  Beckwith  off  his  feet. 

An  instant  and  gripping  impulse  laid  hold  of  him, 
and  for  the  first  time  he  was  in  the  power  of  a  woman. 

He  had  read,  and  he  had  learned  in  his  office;  but 
now  he  felt,  and  it  was  very  different.  Was  it  her 
way  with  all?  Or  just  with  him?  It  might  be  the 
snare  of  a  woman  with  a  motive !  Or  a  real  interest ! 
He  could  not  tell,  and  he  had  no  present  hope  of 
finding  out,  for  Bertha  Hodgkin  seemed  more  of  an 
actress  than  women  usually  are.  He  was  sure  on  one 
point :  he  would  rather  have  her  for  a  colleague  than 

24 


MADNESS 

an  antagonist,  and  the  amount  at  stake  and  the  care 
required  made  him  more  of  an  actor  than  lawyers 
generally  get  to  be.  In  short,  he  had  to  abandon 
ordinary  companionship  and  play  a  game — a  game 
with  a  double  handicap:  lack  of  experience  and  the 
spell  of  a  dominating  personality.  But  Beckwith 
knew  that  time  would  settle  the  problem  and  that  time 
was  the  only  thing  that  would  safely  settle  it.  If  he 
could  keep  the  game  in  progress  he  had  a  good  chance 
to  win,  and  he  said  to  himself  sententiously :  "A 
lawyer  ought  to  be  a  master  of  delay." 

Beckwith  had  not  counted  on  a  thousand  enticing 
devices  and  puzzling  whims  which  interrupted  him  by 
day  and  disturbed  him  by  night.  His  program  of 
delay  was  not  working  out.  When  he  said  "Good 
night"  he  could  not  withdraw  his  hand — Miss 
Hodgkin  was  not  holding  it,  that  was  certain — and 
the  warmth  of  the  touch  entered  his  veins.  When 
he  did  succeed  he  was  ill  at  ease. 

"I  will  get  the  book  and  bring  it  to  you " 

"Soon?"  she  interrupted.  A  look  in  her  eyes  sent 
the  blood  coursing  through  him.  His  plans — his 
philosophy — went  to  the  winds. 

"Tomorrow?"  he  asked. 

25 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"Yes — yes — come !" 

Out  into  the  winter  night  he  went,  his  hat  on  the 
back  of  his  head.  His  cheeks  were  hot.  He  raised 
his  hands  to  his  forehead  to  relieve  the  pressure.  His 
thoughts  ran  on  wildly:  "To  go  back  so  soon  under 
all  the  circumstances  might  be  interpreted  by  her  uncle 
as  a  confession — and  I  am  not  sure  of  anything  yet 
beyond  this  spell  and  the  loss  of  my  own  will.  If 
Hodgkin  should  believe  me  serious,  could  I  then 
abandon  her  and  still  keep  him  for  a  client?  What 
has  become  of  my  caution — my  resolutions!  I'll 
make  an  excuse — I'll  tell  her  I'm  sick — I'll  go  out 
of  the  city  and  telegraph  her.  But  can  I  lie  to  her? 
She'll  divine  it  and  discard  me;  she'll  poison  his 
mind,  and  I'll  lose  him.  If  I  postpone  she  may  never 
feel  again  as  she  does  tonight — God,  what  coloring 
she  has  when  she's  aroused!  What  spirit!  I  should 
have  lingered !  No — it  was  best — for  me !  And  a 
good  stroke — to  hold  her!  Those  lips — I'd  give  a 
thousand!  If  I  go  back  tomorrow  it's  a  certainty, 
and  I'm  in  for  good! — or  bad!" 

When  Beckwith  went  into  his  home  the  conflict  was 
still  raging. 

"Could  I  ask  her  here  as  my  wife?"  The  idea 
jolted.  "Could  I  hold  that  wild  nature  through  the 

26 


MADNESS 

years?  Would  she  tire?  Time — I  must  gain  time! 
But  it  will  be  hard  to  play  the  game — maybe  impos- 
sible— if  I  go  tomorrow!" 

The  next  morning  Beckwith  bought  a  little  volume 
tastily  bound  in  red.  He  clasped  it  tightly.  "I  will 
deliver  it  tonight,"  he  said. 

An  hour  later  the  door  of  his  small  private  office 
opened  quietly  and  a  figure  in  new  mourning  entered. 
Alice  Wagner  delivered  into  his  hands  her  father's 
will.  He  turned  it  to  one  side  and  read  upon  the 
margin : 

Take  to  Beckwith  Miller. 

"I  would  have  seen  you  before,  Mr.  Miller,"  said 
Alice,  "but  I  did  not  feel  equal  to  it." 

She  at  once  plunged  into  the  details  of  the  estate. 
During  her  constant  companionship  with  her  father 
he  had  posted  her  generally  concerning  his  affairs, 
and  she  thought  her  patrimony  sufficient  to  protect 
her  from  the  necessity  of  supporting  herself. 

A  slight  glance  of  humor  lighted  Beckwith's  gray 
eye.  "You  know  what  they  say  about  lawyers!"  he 
remarked.  "They  'work  hard,  live  well  and  die  poor.' 
The  same  is  true  of  doctors,  I  fear." 

Alice's  eyes  rested  on  the  small  red  object  on  the 

27 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

desk.  Beckwith  was  searching  for  some  blank  forms 
and  carelessly  covered  it  with  a  few  of  the  numerous 
papers  in  front  of  him.  He  continued  his  search,  and 
Alice  looked  through  the  open  door.  The  office  boy, 
a  lad  of  eighteen,  was  busy  at  the  copying-press.  A 
client  was  impatiently  waiting — a  tall  man,  alder- 
manic  in  build,  his  complexion  dark,  his  gray  hair 
standing  out  from  his  head  like  bristles — a  man 
conspicuous  for  neat  attire  and  that  peculiar  air  of 
freshness  which  marks  the  frequent  bather. 


CHAPTER  III 
PLUTO  OR  PLATO 

There  be  three  things  which  are  too  wonderful  for  me,  yea, 
four,  which  I  know  not:  The  way  of  an  eagle  in  the  air,  the 
way  of  a  serpent  upon  a  rock,  the  way  of  a  ship  in  the  midst 
of  the  sea,  and  the  way  of  a  man  with  a  maid. 

— Proverbs. 

* 

'  •  ^H AT  evening  Beckwith  went  to  his  room  earlier 
than  usual.  This  caused  his  mother  to  reflect. 
It  had  been  their  custom,  insisted  on  by  her,  not  to 
mention  at  the  table  matters  affecting  the  emotions. 
Her  son  had  postponed  any  reference  to  his  new  client 
until  after  dinner.  Perhaps  this  was  an  unconscious 
admission  that  his  emotions  were  involved!  And 
during  the  entire  meal  she  had  not  once  heard  his 
hearty  and  contagious  laugh! 

While  Beckwith  was  looking  over  some  papers  in 
his  room  he  mused,  reviewing  with  the  flavor  and 
fervor  of  youth  every  important  event  in  his  own  life 
and  every  incident  of  the  past  that  concerned  Alice. 
In  his  ruminations  he  was  set  adrift  now  and  then  by 
a  vision  of  her  haunting  eyes,  witching  in  their  human 
sympathy  and  artless  allure. 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

He  recalled  with  a  smile  that  when  she  was  a  member 
of  his  Sunday-school  class  he  had  been  charged  by  the 
other  girls  with  "favoring"  her.  He  lingered  over 
the  thought  that  whenever  she  was  present  some  secret 
power  impelled  him  to  draw  close  to  her.  It  was 
because  she  was  an  out-of-doors  girl  of  buoyant 
spirits!  Or  it  was  because  of  the  subdued  and  sincere 
sparkle  of  her  conversation  when  diffidence  was  over- 
come! Or  was  she  merely  winning? — that  lasting 
endowment !  Yet  her  charm  was  not  beyond  analysis : 
she  was  wholly  unaffected  and  genuine — woman's 
prime  attraction  in  his  mother's  eyes — responsive  but 
quiet,  and  simple  in  everything.  She  was  blessed,  too, 
with  the  soul  of  a  natural  musician,  which  told  of  her 
German  ancestry.  She  was  the  object,  therefore,  of 
that  affectionate  interest  which  true  men  and  women 
feel  in  those  who  are  spontaneous,  gentle  and  musical. 
Beckwith  had  never  before  weighed  her  personality. 
But  he  had  felt  the  color  of  health  in  his  cheeks  grow 
deeper  with  the  satisfaction  which  her  presence 
inspired,  and  now  that  she  was  practically  alone  in 
the  world,  seeking  his  services  and  advice,  she  was 
making  a  huge  draft  on  his  sympathies.  But  the 
other  woman — the  siren  of  oriental  cast,  with  life's 
currents  full — was  pulling — tugging.  It  was  the 

30 


contrast  between  the  dreamless  sleep  of  a  child  and 
the  sleepless  toss  of  infatuation.  The  niece  was  no 
"beautiful  Bertha,"  but  a  witch  of  tragedy.  She  was 
no  more  free  than  he.  While  she  expected  to  get  her 
uncle's  fortune  at  death  she  would  be  certain  of  it 
if  she  married  to  please  him,  and  no  one  could  be  more 
to  his  liking  than  his  confidential  adviser.  All 
this  Beckwith  was  weighing — and  he  had  learned 
enough  to  know  that  Dr.  Wagner's  estate  was  not 
promising. 

He  had  almost  surrendered,  but  it  was  clear  that 
much  was  yet  to  be  considered.  If  such  a  marriage 
should  not  last,  the  client  and  the  hope  of  property 
might  both  be  lost;  and  if  it  should  last,  it  might 
not  be  very  free.  He  was  in  a  dilemma.  He  could  not 
move  slowly  and  dared  not  move  fast.  Some  enter- 
tainment might  relieve  the  situation !  It  would  side- 
track a  personal  conversation  and  too  close  a  reference 
to  his  failure  to  meet  his  last  engagement. 

"  'The  play's  the  thing !' "  he  said  to  himself,  and 
an  invitation  went  off  the  next  day  for  any  night  that 
week. 

The  reply  came  promptly :  Miss  Hodgkin  was  not 
well  enough,  but  would  expect  him  to  call  the  next 
evening. 

31 


THE  UPAS  TREE 

"You  feel  at  liberty  to  break  your  engagements 
with  women  as  you  choose?"  inquired  the  niece  before 
Beckwith  was  fairly  seated. 

"I  have  no  rule — not  enough  experience  to  make 
a  rule — but  the  occasion  was  imperative,  as  I  wrote, 
and  I  took  it  for  granted  you  would  accept  the  state- 
ment. I  would  from  you." 

"Men  are  all  alike — they  assume  to  be  masters.  I 
will  not  overlook  another  slight.  If  you  don't  care 
enough  to  put  me  before  all  things  I  will  put  all 
things  before  you.  Life  is  too  short  to  trifle — I'm 
too  strong  in  my  feelings " 

"Be  reasonable.  A  lawyer  is  very  uncertain — he 
has  times  when  he  is  ordered  up,  and " 

"No,  Beckwith  Miller — it  was  no  lawyer's  emer- 
gency that  broke  that  engagement — it  was  another 
woman " 

"Now  wait — wait — I'm  not  going  to  be  cross- 
examined!  I  don't  wish  to  hurt  your  feelings " 

"You  can't!" 

"I  don't  wish  to,  at  all  events.  When  you're 
impatient  it  makes  me  balk.  Let  us  take  each  other 
at  par  and  not  rush  too  headlong.  If  we  take  our 
time » 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  going  to  say,  and 

32 


PLUTO     OR     PLATO 

I  don't  care.    If  you  expect  me  to  dawdle  along  in  our 
little   affair   you   don't  know   me.      It  is  touch   and 

"Lightning  does  a  lot  of  damage !" 

"How  dare  you  jest — I  won't  brook  it!  There! 
Forgive  me !  I'm  impetuous — don't  cross  me !  If  you 
don't  care  at  all,  stay  away — I'd  rather  know 
now " 

"But  I  do.  Let  me  have  time.  I'm  a  novice  among 
women.  I  only  know  enough  to  know  that  time  is  the 
only  thing  that  makes  no  mistakes." 

"Time  is  no  friend  of  mine.  I  move  fast — act 
quickly — regret  never !  And  I  expect  those  that  come 
near  me  to  do  the  same." 

A  knock  at  the  door  interrupted. 

Mr.  Hodgkin  glanced  at  his  niece  and  then  at  his 
lawyer.  It  was  a  quick  movement  of  the  eye  and  it 
escaped  notice — perhaps  he  had  entered  at  the  wrong 
moment !  Shortly  he  rose  to  go. 

"Stay,"  said  Beckwith.  "Wait  a  little  and  I'll  go 
with  you.  I  must  leave  soon  anyway — I'm  due  at 
home.  Mother's  alone." 

The  niece  smiled,  but  tore  her  handkerchief. 

"I've  ended  the  affair  altogether,"  said  Beckwith 
to  himself  as  he  walked  toward  his  home,  "or  I've 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

laid  the  foundation  for  delay — one  or  the  other.  How 
complex  these  women  are!" 

Beckwith's  thoughts  were  now  taken  up  with  the 
affairs  of  his  new  client,  but  he  was  wholly  uncom- 
fortable if  more  than  two  days  intervened  between 
his  visits  with  Bertha  Hodgkin,  to  whom  he  felt  drawn 
as  by  a  great  magnet.  Yet  in  her  presence  he  was 
ever  maneuvering.  There  was  a  truce,  but  it  was  an 
armed  truce. 

He  was  resting  on  his  arms  when  one  morning  the 
mail  brought  what  appeared  to  be  a  letter  enclosed 
in  an  innocent  envelope.  It  was  a  brief  message, 
unsigned,  but  full  of  portent : 

Beware  of  the  Oriental!    She  is  appealing,  but  in- 
constant. 

There  was  nothing  to  indicate  its  source. 

Beckwith  held  it  up  to  the  light. 

He  brought  to  his  desk  the  papers  in  the  Wagner 
estate,  pulled  out  a  letter  from  Alice  and  studied  the 
handwriting;  rubbed  both  letters  between  his  fingers, 
laid  one  over  the  other  to  compare  the  size  of  the 
sheets,  and  held  that  of  his  client  up  to  the  light. 

He  sank  back  in  his  chair,  shocked  and  sad. 

Alice,  so  it  happened,  was  on  her  way  to  the  office. 
As  she  entered  she  passed  the  man  with  the  bristly 
hair. 


PLUTO     OR     PLATO 

"Mr.  Miller,  pardon  me,  but  who  is  that  man?"  she 
inquired  with  hesitation. 

"That  is  Mr.  Hodgkin — one  of  the  directors  of  the 
Public  Bath  Institute." 

Alice  was  forcing  her  recollection. 

"Lives  at  the  Hotel  Leopold?" 

Beckwith  nodded. 

The  way  was  opened — it  might  never  be  again !  He 
bluffed.  "He's  the  uncle  of  Bertha  Hodgkin — of 
whom  you  know." 

"Yes."     Alice  colored.     "Oriental,  I  hear !" 

Had  she  used  the  word  by  design?  Suspected 
people  sometimes  adopt  such  a  bold  ruse,  but  it 
seemed  unlike  Alice.  Still,  women  are  paradoxes! — 
particularly  in  love  affairs.  She  had  been  more  than 
friendly  in  their  new  relation  !  It  was  a  puzzle !  He 
would  assume  an  unusual  manner  and  aid  it  by 
impressive  silences.  Mystery  would  be  a  formidable 
weapon — with  a  woman.  Her  embarrassment  or 
talkativeness  might  uncover  guilt. 

But  Alice  made  a  hasty  excuse  and  left  quietly. 

"I  wish  I  understood  women  better,"  Beckwith 
muttered  to  himself.  "She's  guilty !  I'll  get  a  note 
from  her  admitting  the  thing.  It's  not  such  a  serious 
offense — no  crime !  She's  young !  If  guilty,  she's 

35 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

interested  in  me;  there's  no  escape  from  that — and 
it's  real — she  cares — or  she  never  would  have  done  it. 
Another  idol  off  the  pedestal!  I'll  see  'the  Oriental' 
tonight!" 

A  Miss  Harris  was  in  Miss  Hodgkin's  room  when 
Beckwith  called. 

"I've  heard  of  you — through  Miss  Wagner,"  she 
said  when  they  were  introduced. 

Now  he  knew  where  Alice  had  learned  of  his  atten- 
tions to  Miss  Hodgkin! 

Beckwith  did  not  hear  from  Alice  the  next  day,  but 
he  called  at  the  first  opportunity,  and  without  warning 
placed  the  waif  letter  in  her  hand. 

The  color  rose  in  her  cheeks. 

Very  deliberately  he  added  the  other  letter,  taken 
from  his  office  files. 

"That  is  your  writing?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes — certainly.     It's  nothing  like  the  other." 

"See  here!" 

He  put  the  sheets  together. 

"The  same  size!" 

Alice  fitted  one  over  the  other  and  ran  her  fingers 
down  the  edges. 

86 


PLUTO     OR     PLATO 

"The  same  texture !" 

She  felt  of  them  carefully. 

He  held  them  both  up  to  the  light. 

"The  same  watermark — the  arrow-head!" 

Her  cheeks  became  crimson. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  she  exclaimed  as  she  left  the 
room.  She  returned  with  her  hands  full  of  writing- 
paper  and  envelopes. 

"When  did  you  get  this  stationery?"  asked  Beck- 
with. 

"Holiday  time,  at  Willoughby's." 

They  matched  up  the  paper  with  the  letters  and 
examined  the  watermarks.  They  compared  the 
envelopes  with  that  of  the  anonymous  letter.  There 
was  no  doubt. 

"What  have  you  to  say  ?"  asked  Beckwith. 

Alice  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"Never  mind,"  quieted  Beckwith.  "It's  not  such 
a  serious  thing." 

"Oh,  but  it  is,  Mr.  Miller!  You're  a  lawyer  and 
used  to  ferretmg  out  these  things.  They  may  seem 
small  to  you,  but  I'm  alone,  and  all  I  have  is  my 
character.  Appearances  are  against  me,  but  I  didn't 
do  it!  Can't  you  help  me?  I'm  willing  to  tell  you 
all  I  know." 

37 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"Well,  I'll  help  you  if  you  wish — but  it  may  turn 
out  wrong.  Let's  get  it  out  of  the  way — I  don't  want 
to  believe  unless  I  have  to.  Why  did  you  leave  the 
office  in  such  a  hurry?" 

"I  had  no  idea  of  this — believe  me — I  told  you 
I  had  heard  of  your  fancy  for  Miss  Hodgkin,  but  you 
did  not  choose  to  confide  and  I  could  not  inquire — 
that  was  all." 

"Your  informant  was  Miss  Harris?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Alice,  surprised. 

"Have  you  and  she  been  intimate?" 

"Not  at  all — just  acquaintances." 

"Has  she  ever  been  at  your  home — or  you  in  her 
rooms  ?" 

"I  have  been  there — once.  She  has  never  been  here. 
We  met  casually — in  music.  Nothing  more  except 
that  I  agreed  to  lunch  with  her  at  the  Leopold." 

"Did  you?" 

"No ;  I  wrote,  postponing  indefinitely — I  intended 
to  go,  but  I  haven't  as  yet." 

"Now,  is  there  anything  else  I  ought  to  know? 
Remember,  I'm  trying  to  help  you." 

Alice  hesitated.  "I  suppose  I  will  have  to  tell. 
I  spoke  to  Miss  Harris  about  my  life-long  acquaint- 
ance with  you  in  such  a  way  that  she  may  have 

38 


PLUTO     OR     PLATO 

believed  I  was  interested — you  mustn't  think  of  that 
again — it  was  my  humor  of  the  moment — we  have 
our  little  impulses — I  was  thinking  of  the  consider- 
ation you  have  always  extended  to  me  and  I  may 
have " 

"I  understand." 

The  next  evening,  in  the  parlor  of  Bertha  Hodgkin, 
Beckwith  took  the  unsigned  letter  from  his  pocket. 

"Here's  a  love-letter — it  will  interest  you — read  it 
— with  care." 

"How  did  you  come  by  this?"  The  tone  indicated 
rising  anger. 

"The  mail!" 

"The  female,  rather.  Someone's  jealous!  Some 
little  coward!  'The  Oriental? — how  flat!  Do  you 
suspect  anyone?" 

"No — I  thought  you  might — have  you  no  ene- 
mies ?" 

"This  did  not  emanate  from  anyone  connected  with 
me — you're  the  cause — not  / — it's  the  love  of  you, 
not  hatred  of  me.  Someone  cares  for  you.  Is  there 
not " 

"None  capable  of  writing  that " 

"Be  not  so  sure — be  not  so  sure!  You're  a  novice, 
remember,  and  the  very  one — so  'coy,  steadfast  and 

39 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

demure' — is  often  capable  of  just  such  a  low  trick." 

"Well,  a  novice  among  women  may  not  be  a  novice 
in  unraveling  intrigue.  Hold  a  bit ! — how  about  Miss 
Harris?" 

"Impossible!" 

"Ask  her  to  come  in." 

Miss  Hodgkin  was  out  of  the  room  in  an  instant. 

Beckwith  stooped  over  a  wide-mouthed  waste-paper 
basket  near  the  writing-desk.  A  half-finished  and 
discarded  note  in  Miss  Hodgkin's  handwriting  was 
invitingly  on  top.  He  took  it  up  quickly,  studied 
the  formation  of  the  letters  and  gave  his  head  a 
negative  shake.  He  compared  it  with  the  other  and 
held  it  to  the  light. 

"I  have  seen  Miss  Wagner  since  I  saw  you,"  Beck- 
with said  to  Miss  Harris  when  she  came  in  with  Miss 
Hodgkin.  "She  says  you're  a  imisiker,  like  her." 

"Not  like  her,  I  regret — but  I  am  a  music-Zowr." 

"Too  bad  you  failed  to  get  together  the  other  day !" 

"How  so?" 

"On  your  invitation  to  lunch — luncheon,  I  suppose 
you  call  it — here — three  or  four  weeks  ago — when 
she  wrote  you — you  recall?" 

"Not  at  all.  Miss  Wagner  never  wrote  me  a  letter 
— that  is,  I  never  received  any,  I'm  sure." 

40 


PLUTO     OR     PLATO 

"When  she  broke  the  lunch  engagement?" 

"But  we  never  had  one,  Mr.  Miller." 

"My  blunder!  my  blunder!  I  misunderstood  her, 
of  course." 

While  Beckwith  was  trying  to  figure  out  the  motive 
which  had  prompted  Alice  to  tell  him  of  the  mythical 
engagement,  conversation  drifted  to  the  subject  of 
foods,  when  Miss  Harris  opened  a  door  by  mentioning 
a  favorite  receipt. 

"Let  me  have  it,"  he  urged. 

"I'll  be  back  right  away,"  she  exclaimed,  and  was 
out  of  the  room  again. 

Beckwith  boldly  held  before  Miss  Hodgkin's  eyes 
the  note  he  had  taken  from  the  waste-basket. 

"How  did  you  come  by  that?"  she  said. 

"Stole  it,"  responded  Beckwith  calmly. 

"Impudent ! — you  do  exasperate  me — what  a  fool ! 
— to  be  picking  up  my  letters — do  you  think  I  wrote 
that  stupid  note  about  myself?" 

"Certainly  not!  But  a  lawyer  on  the  scent  gets 
after  everything  in  sight.  You  can't  tell  what  any 
little  thing  may  lead  to.  Look  at  this — the  paper's 
the  same  texture  apparently,  the  sheets  the  same  size 
— and  it's  the  same  watermark — see !  How  long  have 
you  had  it?" 

41 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"A  year  ago  last  Christmas.  A  friend  gave  me 
a  great  box  of  it — here  she  comes — see  about  her 
paper  while  you're  in  the  business — you're  in  a  high 
calling — a  detective!" 

Miss  Harris  returned  with  her  book  of  receipts, 
gave  Beckwith  a  sheet  of  the  hotel  paper  and  asked 
him  to  write  while  she  read. 

He  tried  to  exchange  a  furtive  smile  with  Miss 
Hodgkin,  but  met  a  look  of  contempt. 

As  he  folded  his  precious  receipt,  Miss  Harris  drew 
from  her  book  a  letter  and  asked  him  to  mail  it. 

Nothing  about  this  letter  seemed  suspicious,  but  he 
carried  it  with  him  to  his  home  and  in  the  morning 
delivered  the  four  letters  to  Doctor  Wells,  a  man  who 
had  mastered  law  as  well  as  medicine  and  had  laid 
both  professions  aside  for  the  work  of  a  handwriting 
expert.  The  Doctor  was  instructed  not  to  disturb  the 
unopened  letter  of  Miss  Harris,  but  to  mail  it  at  the 
first  opportunity.  The  expert  gave  it  as  his  opinion 
that  neither  of  the  two  women  at  the  Leopold  had 
written  the  unsigned  letter — it  was  Alice,  if  any  of 
the  three,  and  he  was  inclined  to  think  her  guilty, 
but  would  write  again  that  night. 

The  next  day,  however,  came  the  promised  word — 
scribbled  in  pencil  on  the  back  of  Alice's  letter :  "The 

42 


PLUTO     OR     PLATO 

writer  of  this  did  not  write  the  other — you  can  rely 
on  it;  but  it  might  be  hard  to  prove." 

Another  communication  was  on  Beckwith's  desk; 
it  was  from  a  paper  manufacturer,  and  it  read : 

Referring  to  your  interview  with  the  writer,  beg  to  confirm 
statement  from  careful  examination  of  our  books  that  the 
arrow-head,  our  exclusive  watermark,  was  not  in  existence 
Christmas  a  year  ago — not  until  the  June  following. 

Bertha  Hodgkin  had  lied ! 

"She's  a  deep  one,"  was  Beckwith's  mental  comment. 
"She  got  Alice's  letter  from  Miss  Harris  and  searched 
the  market  to  duplicate  the  paper.  I  was  to  believe 
Alice  guilty — that  was  the  plan — and  it  nearly  suc- 
ceeded !  And  Miss  Harris  denied  the  letter  from  Alice 
to  shield  her  friend !  I'll  confront  'the  Oriental'  with 
this  letter  from  the  manufacturer — she'll  threaten 
revenge  and  mean  it,  but  she'll  never  risk  having  her 
uncle  know.  I'll  be  rid  of  her — and  keep  my  client, 
too!  I  did  a  good  piece  of  work." 


43 


CHAPTER  IV 
A  LITTLE  MENDICANT 

She  had  thought  how  his  armor  would  blaze  in  the  sun, 
As  he  rode  like  a  prince  to  claim  his  bride; 

In  the  sweet,  dim  light  of  the  falling  night 
She  found  him  at  her  side.  — Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox. 

From  the  days  when  it  was  always  summer  in  Eden,  to  those 
days  when  it  is  mostly  winter  in  fallen  latitudes,  the  world  of 
a  man  has  invariably  gone  one  way — the  way  of  the  love  of 
a  woman.  — Dickens. 


Wagner  estate  required  less  and  less  attention. 
Matters  had  come  to  a  standstill  awaiting  the 
result  of  a  speculative  investment  to  save  which  the 
Doctor  had  involved  himself  heavily,  and  worry  over 
which  had  in  fact  hastened  his  death.  Winter  and 
spring  went  by,  and  summer  was  at  hand  before  the 
venture  was  finally  tested.  Then  it  went  to  pieces 
with  a  crash. 

Beckwith  called  that  evening  at  the  Wagner  home 
and  made  a  frank  statement  of  the  loss.  Spreading 
out  on  the  table  a  schedule  of  the  property  and  debts 
of  the  estate,  he  ran  over  the  items. 

44 


A     LITTLE     MENDICANT 

Alice  studied  the  figures  absentmindedly.  A  smile 
came  to  her  lips. 

"I'm  a  little  mendicant !"  she  said  bravely.  "That's 
all  there  is  of  it.  I'm  glad  poor  father  did  not  have 
to  bear  this!  You  may  think  it  odd,  Mr.  Miller,  that 
I  treat  the  matter  so  lightly,  but  I'm  not  taken  by 
surprise.  Inexperienced  as  I  am,  I  divined  the  true 
conditions  and  began  my  lessons  in  the  hard  school  of 
economy  some  time  ago." 

"Alice,  this  is  serious.    What  is  to  become  of  you  ?" 

"It  is  serious,  but  I'm  not  discouraged.  While  I 
was  worrying  over  the  estate,  I  was  planning;  and 
I've  made  up  my  mind  what  to  do.  You  know  father's 
idea  was  that  a  girl  should  be  capable  of  making  her 
own  way  in  the  world ;  so  my  musical  talent  was  culti- 
vated. I've  been  studying  lately  with  teaching  in  view. 
I  believe  I  can  earn  my  own  living — and  I  will!" 

"The  struggle  is  hard — in  a  city,"  observed  Beck- 
with,  tapping  his  finger-tips  with  a  pencil.  "And 
you  are  not  very  strong." 

"I'm  equal  to  it.  A  stout  heart  is  most  of  the 
battle.  After  I've  studied  a  little  more  I  can  succeed. 
At  least,  I  feel  that  way  about  it — don't  you?" 

Her  great,  inquiring,  kindly  brown  eyes  met  those 
of  her  lawyer. 

45 


THE  UPAS  TREE 

Caught  off  his  guard,  he  turned  his  glance  to  the 
floor  and  took  a  moment  to  regain  himself. 

"No  one  could  doubt  your  determination,"  he 
replied.  "No  one  could  doubt  your  devotion  to  a 
duty,  nor  your  ability,  nor  your  constancy.  But  one 
might  be  pardoned  for  questioning  your  strength — 
especially  if  he  were  deeply  interested !" 

Again  she  looked  into  his  eyes.  They  were  alive 
with  a  power  that  made  her  shrink.  On  a  number 
of  occasions  there  had  entered  her  consciousness  from 
his  an  elusive  suggestion  of  tenderness  that  left  her 
in  doubt  about  his  feelings  and  caused  her  to  suspect 
her  own.  Now  there  could  be  no  mistake:  the 
attraction,  whatever  its  extent,  could  not  be  denied — 
and  it  was  mutual. 

Their  hands  were  clasped.  Thrilled  by  her  warm 
grasp,  he  was  inspired  to  gentleness  by  its  lack  of 
vigor.  She  felt  his  crushing  strength  in  the  restraint 
of  an  iron  grip.  And  each  reveled  in  a  mystery — 
the  galvanic  touch  of  a  hand! 

"You  ought  not  to  be  pushed  out  into  the  world 
like  this,"  he  pleaded,  his  voice  low  and  his  utterance 
deliberate.  "I  can't  think  of  it  without  sadness.  A 
boarding-house — that's  what  it  means !  You  could  not 
live  in  such  an  environment — at  least  you  would  cease 

46 


A     LITTLE     MENDICANT 

to  be  Alice.  I've  been  thinking  it  over.  I  have  a 
home.  I  idolize  you !  You  are  the  only  woman  I  ever 
loved,  and  I  want  you  to  be  my  wife." 

Tears  were  in  those  marvelous  eyes,  and  he  was 
aware  of  it.  He  placed  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder 
and  continued : 

"Don't  answer  me  at  once.  Let  us  say  no  more 
tonight,  and  I'll  return  tomorrow.  Don't  rise!  Let 
me  leave  you  as  you  are ;  let  me  think  of  you  as  I  see 
you  now." 

Stooping,  he  kissed  the  rich  brown  hair  and  slipped 
away. 


47 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  RED  GATE 

Into    the    tranquil    woods,    where    bluebirds   and    robins    were 

building 

Towns  in  the  populous  trees,  with  hanging  gardens  of  verdure, 
Peaceful,  aerial  cities  of  joy  and  affection  and  freedom. 

— Longfellow. 

* 

'  1^  HE  manner  of  Beckwith's  proposal  was  not  acci- 
dental.  He  felt  it  would  hardly  be  just  to 
announce  to  Alice  the  melting  away  of  her  inheritance 
and  then,  while  she  was  under  the  influence  of  dis- 
appointment, propose  marriage  in  such  a  way  as  to 
demand  an  immediate  answer.  He  knew  that  a  sudden 
emotion  sometimes  unwills  a  woman,  and  he  believed 
that  Alice,  if  taken  unawares,  might  commit  herself; 
but  he  disdained  such  a  breach  of  chivalry.  He  could 
not  forget  that  he  was  her  legal  adviser,  and,  remem- 
bering the  jealousy  with  which  the  law  guards  the 
client  in  a  transaction  with  a  lawyer,  he  was  instinc- 
tively curbed.  On  the  other  hand,  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  marry  Alice  if  he  could,  and  had  merely  post- 
poned his  purpose. 

48 


THE     RED     GATE 

Much  of  his  solicitude  was  unnecessary,  for  Alice 
had  not  been  taken  wholly  unawares.  She  had,  how- 
ever, made  no  attempt  to  sound  her  heart,  and  after 
Beckwith's  departure  she  remained  by  her  lamp,  dazed 
by  the  combination  of  events  rather  than  perplexed 
by  the  words  of  her  new-found  lover. 

The  shutting  of  the  front  door  aroused  her.  Why 
had  she  sat  dreaming  and  allowed  Beckwith  to  make 
such  a  cheerless  exit  ?  He  must  have  mesmerized  her ! 
Until  now  she  had  been  blessed  with  wise  counsel — 
her  father,  and  then  her  lawyer — but  here  was  a 
situation  about  which  she  could  consult  neither  one, 
and  she  must  decide  unaided  the  most  important  ques- 
tion of  her  life. 

Beckwith  certainly  had  been  most  delicately  consid- 
erate in  making  his  proposal  as  he  did — she  could 
never  forget  it !  He  was  talented !  And  would  be- 
come prominent!  As  she  thought  of  him  his  picture 
rose  before  her.  Not  handsome,  perhaps,  but  vital, 
tall,  straight  as  an  Indian.  A  lock  of  white  just  above 
the  temple,  set  in  his  black  hair,  had  ever  been  in 
her  eyes  a  mark  of  distinction.  He  would  be  interest- 
ing always  and  would  lead  her  on  and  up.  Above  all, 
his  unusual  devotion  to  his  mother  was  a  guaranty 
that  he  would  love  and  cherish  her  also.  But  did  she 

49 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

love  him?  If  she  did  not,  why  did  time  gallop  so 
when  they  were  together?  She  wandered  to  the  hall- 
way and  stood  before  the  picture  of  her  father, 
yearning  for  advice  and  reflecting  upon  the  confidence 
he  had  reposed  in  Beckwith,  shown  in  so  many  ways 
and  emphasized  by  the  message  written  on  the  will. 

Was  not  the  finger  of  Fate  pointing  through  all 
that  had  passed,  directing  her  to  the  threshold  of 
Beckwith's  home? 

She  was  grateful  to  him  for  the  careful  attention 
he  had  given  to  her  affairs;  his  moderate  bills;  his 
recent  avowal  that  he  would  make  no  further  charge; 
his  desire  to  honor  every  wish  she  had  expressed. 
She  was  very  grateful — and  might  be  mistaking 
gratitude  for  affection!  A  grateful  woman  is  often 
a  foolish  woman !  The  transition  from  gratitude  to 
the  thought  of  love  is  so  natural  and  easy !  Perhaps 
she  was  slipping  from  one  to  the  other  in  response 
merely  to  a  law  of  the  emotions !  In  a  mist  of  inde- 
cision she  sat  down  at  the  piano,  struck  a  few  chords 
and  drifted  into  Mendelssohn's  Spring  Song. 

On  more  than  one  occasion  she  had  seen  an  entire 
audience  enraptured,  enchanted,  entranced  by  its 
fascinating  and  caressing  melody.  It  fitted  many 
moods,  and  she  gave  it  expression  to  suit  her  own. 

50 


THE     RED     GATE 

Thus  it  was  ever  disclosing  new  beauties — a  perennial 
joy — and  she  had  early  conferred  upon  it  the  rank  of 
soul  music,  granting  it  admission  into  the  small  class 
of  her  "immortals." 

The  song  was  finished  in  the  quiet  manner  of  its 
beginning,  and  she  lost  herself  in  the  dreams  of 
improvising. 

Early  the  next  morning  came  a  note  by  messenger 
— from  her  future  husband,  if  she  so  willed  it — 
suggesting  a  drive. 

At  the  appointed  hour  he  appeared. 

"I  have  a  little  present  for  you,"  he  said,  as  they 
drove  away. 

Unwrapping  the  small  box  that  he  gave  her,  Alice 
raised  it  to  her  face. 

"  'Oh,  the  faint,  sweet  smell  of »  " 

She  was  interrupted  by  a  nod  and  knew  that  he 
was  able  to  finish  the  quotation.  The  box  contained 
a  jasmine — emblem  of  amiability — befitting  and 
gracing  a  wife. 

"The  innocent  little  thing !"  she  exclaimed. 

"You  told  me  several  years  ago  that  it  was  your 
favorite  flower " 

"And  you  remembered  it!  It  is  not  only  my 
favorite,  but  I  have  a  sentiment  about  it — a  reverence 

51 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

— that  makes  it  almost  an  unfair  gift — but  you  didn't 
know  that;  so  I  forgive  you!" 

Driving  leisurely,  they  crossed  the  Harlem  and 
followed  for  a  few  miles  an  unfamiliar  but  attractive 
country  road.  Alice  was  deeply  impressed  with  the 
changing  scenes  which  lavish  Nature  was  unfolding. 
Her  silent  enjoyment  was  not  interrupted,  and  when 
they  again  conversed  they  spoke  only  of  commonplace 
things.  Conversation  was  in  the  doldrums,  but  they 
understood  that  this  was  the  result  of  meditations  too 
subtle  for  expression. 

Their  road  turned  into  a  green  vista  leading  from 
the  beaten  way  up  the  side  of  a  small  and  thickly 
wooded  ravine.  A  large  red  gate  blocked  the 
approach,  but  a  rope  was  suspended  from  the  end  of 
a  long  pole  with  which  the  gate  was  connected,  and 
Beckwith  saw  that  by  pulling  the  rope  the  gate  would 
roll  well  out  of  their  way  and  by  pulling  another 
a  few  yards  beyond  he  could  cause  it  to  swing  back 
again,  so  that  he  could  open  and  close  it  without 
alighting.  This  he  did,  and  they  passed  on. 

They  drove  up  the  hill.  The  horse  breathed  hard 
and  claimed  a  rest,  while  Alice  was  glad  to  enjoy  the 
rich  coloring  of  the  foliage  which  arched  the  roadway 
so  luxuriantly  that  the  sun's  rays  scarcely  penetrated. 

52 


THE     RED     GATE 

A  tiny  brook  rippled  at  her  feet.  No  voice,  it  seemed, 
could  be  sweeter  than  this  brook ;  no  roof  more  grate- 
ful than  Summer's  canopy  of  green. 

She  awoke  from  her  reverie  to  find  Beckwith  gazing 
at  her  intently,  his  look  determined,  his  manner 
grave. 

"Alice,"  he  said,  "you  are  my  only  hope  of  happi- 
ness and  you  have  not  been  out  of  my  mind  a  moment 
since  we  parted  last  night !"  Ardently  he  pressed  her 
hand  to  his  lips.  "I  mustn't  hasten  your  decision! 
But  if  you  can,  do  answer  me  now." 

She  had  been  thinking  again  gratefully  of  his  con- 
sideration on  the  evening  before,  and  this  was  still 
in  her  mind  when  she  spoke: 

"You  have  been  so  tender  of  me — last  night — 
always !  I'm  ready  and  happy  to  give  you  my  answer. 
I  am  wholly  and  truly  yours,  dearest!  I  love  you, 
Beckwith,  and  I  will  be  proud — very  proud — to  be 
your  wife." 

He  raised  her  head  and  kissed  her.  At  that 
moment  Nature  bestowed  one  of  those  strange  favors 
reserved  for  the  very  purpose  of  enchanting  the 
bewitched.  A  great  beam  of  the  setting  sun  stole 
through  the  trees  and  suffused  the  lovers  with  its 
roseate  benediction.  It  served,  also,  as  a  warning 

53 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

to  Beckwith,  flushed  with  triumph,  that  he  must 
curtail  the  journey. 

On  their  return  they  passed  the  spot  where  Alice 
had  said  the  important  words.  There  was  the  modest, 
gentle,  endearing,  musical  brook!  There  were  the 
joyous  birds  and  their  happy  homes! 

And  further  on,  the  red  gate! 

"Let  me  open  it,"  Alice  exclaimed.  "Let  us  divide 
even." 

He  stopped  under  the  rope.  She  pulled  it  with 
a  jerk,  and  the  gate  rolled  out  of  their  way.  As  they 
reached  the  rope  on  the  other  side  she  pulled  that,  too, 
and  the  gate  swung  shut  again. 

"It  has  closed  on  my  girlhood  forever!"  she  ex- 
claimed to  herself.  "It  has  shut  out  the  thoughtless 
days  of  my  youth.  I  am  now  on  the  real  highway  of 
life!" 

She  turned  to  Beckwith : 

"I  like  that  red  gate.  I  trust  it  will  bring  a  new 
life  full  of  happiness.  I  mean  to  do  my  part.  It 
requires  some  courage  for  a  girl  to  settle  a  question 
involving  all  the  rest  of  her  life,  but  I've  made  up 
my  mind,  and  it  will  never  be  changed." 

They  were  at  the  pavilion.     Away  from  the  gay 

54 


THE     RED     GATE 

Saturday  throng,  in  a  nook  overlooking  the  tranquil 
river,  bathed  in  the  soft  twilight,  lulled  by  the  fra- 
grant summer  air — at  peace — they  consecrated  their 
new  joy  by  breaking  bread  together. 

When  they  drove  on  again,  a  spirit  of  banter  and 
jest  took  possession  of  them,  finally  lapsing  into  play. 
Beckwith's  laugh,  which  Alice  loved  to  hear,  rang  out 
again,  and  careless  glee  marked  the  way  home. 

An  awakened  heart  was  surprising  Beckwith  with 
new  sensations.  While  he  walked  upon  the  same 
pavement  with  his  fellows,  his  step  was  so  light  that 
he  seemed  on  another  plane.  All  who  bowed  had  an 
approving  smile.  Each  pressure  of  a  hand  imparted 
a  significant  encouragement.  In  speaking  in  court 
he  marveled  at  his  own  easy  utterance ;  his  vocabulary 
was  enriched  and  his  persuasiveness  almost  irresistible. 
Above  all,  he  was  astonished  at  the  facility  and  grace 
with  which  he  accomplished  all  that  he  did.  And  when 
he  confessed  these  incidents  to  Alice  she  sat  with  wide- 
open  eyes:  in  a  smaller  way  she  had  duplicated  every 
one !  More  and  more  they  found  themselves  thinking 
the  same  thoughts  at  the  same  time,  no  matter  what 
distance  separated  them.  And  there  was  a  satisfaction 

55 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

in  the  notion  that  Nature  had  made  a  departure  from 
her  immutable  laws  just  to  please  them — for  certainly 
it  was  all  very  strange! 

The  relinquishment  of  her  girlhood  gave  Alice 
many  a  borrowed  care.  After  the  manner  of  her 
thoughts,  she  began  to  "put  away  childish  things" 
and  spent  much  time  rummaging  over  her  effects, 
preparing  a  great  many  for  removal,  and  casting 
aside,  sometimes  with  regret,  a  cherished  valentine 
or  bit  of  ribbon,  a  trinket  which  had  seemed  precious 
— now  regarded  as  a  trifle. 

Over  one  little  rosette  she  hesitated.  She  could 
not  forget  the  giver,  with  his  brown  eyes  and  rosy, 
happy  face,  nor  the  playful  mock  innocence  with 
which  he  hummed  the  tune  but  never  sang  the  words 
of  Ben  Bolt;  nor  did  she  fail  to  remember  the  rhyme 
he  wrote — "dancing  eyes."  She  had  never  loved 
him;  they  had  been  friends  only.  "But  real  friends," 
she  thought,  "are  not  often  made.  I  will  keep  this 
one  wee  fragment  of  the  past." 

Shortly  she  set  the  wedding  day,  determined  by 
another  event,  the  giving  up  of  her  home.  It  had 
been  so  much  a  part  of  her  that  the  prospect  was 
a  genuine  sorrow,  even  though  the  beloved  piano  was 
to  be  one  of  her  companions  in  the  new  abode. 

56 


THE     RED     GATE 

In  the  preparations  for  the  wedding  Alice  had  to 
determine  many  questions  for  herself.  One  she  was 
glad  to  have  the  opportunity  of  deciding.  As  far 
back  as  she  could  recollect,  marriage  had  been 
inseparably  associated  in  her  mind  with  the  idea  of 
home,  and  she  had  frequently  expressed  a  preference 
for  a  home  wedding.  Her  rector,  in  a  fatherly  way, 
assuming  that  marriage  is  a  divine  institution,  argued 
that  the  church  was  the  only  proper  place.  Others 
also  urged  this  view  upon  her,  but  she  was  firm  in  her 
decision,  fortified  as  she  was  by  the  necessity  for 
economy.  Her  taste  and  purse  met  on  friendly  terms, 
and  the  wedding  was  to  be  simple  in  the  extreme. 

The  days  passed  rapidly,  and  at  last  a  new  name 
was  entered  in  the  great  Book  of  Fate — Mrs.  Beck- 
with  Miller. 


CHAPTER  VI 
NEWPORT 

Where  wealth  accumulates  and  men  decay. 

— Goldsmith. 

Life  without  industry  is  guilt. 

— Hubbard. 

Excess  in  apparel  is  another  costly  folly.  The  very  trimming 
of  the  vain  world  would  clothe  all  the  naked  one. 

— William  Penn. 

He  would  have  been  a  rash  man  who,  when  Augustus  was 
changing  the  Home  of  brick  to  the  Rome  of  marble,  when 
wealth  was  augmenting  and  magnificence  increasing,  when  vic- 
torious legions  were  extending  the  frontier,  when  manners  were 
becoming  more  refined,  language  more  polished,  and  literature 
rising  to  higher  splendors — he  would  have  been  a  rash  man  who 
then  would  have  said  that  Rome  was  entering  her  decline.  Yet 
such  was  the  case.  — Henry  George. 

* 

TOURING  the  refreshment-hour  at  the  wedding 
^*^  reception  Alice  overheard  the  rector's  wife  con- 
versing with  those  seated  nearest  her. 

"While  Mr.  Cassels,"  she  said,  "has  been  in  charge 
of  the  parish  for  barely  a  year,  this  wedding  is  the 
thirteenth.  Wedding  fees  go  to  the  minister's  wife, 
and  I  hope  they'll  keep  it  up." 

58 


NEWPORT 

Not  long  afterwards  Alice  bade  goodbye  to  the 
few  girl  friends  who  had  begged  permission  to  go 
to  the  station  for  their  final  parting.  With  them 
she  had  always  been  a  favorite.  The  first  to  marry, 
they  were  determined  she  should  have  a  prolonged 
farewell.  Her  husband  would  take  her  into  the  com- 
panionship of  older  persons,  and  the  old  ties  would  be 
severed.  They  watched  the  receding  train  with  deep 
feelings  of  regret.  But  they  soon  disappeared,  all 
in  one  carriage,  with  the  merry  laugh  of  youth. 

Over  the  door  of  the  drawing-room,  Alice's  bridal 
chamber,  she  noted  the  number  13.  She  remembered 
the  remark  of  the  rector's  wife  and  the  circumstance 
that  her  husband  had  proposed  on  Friday.  She  tried 
to  brush  these  omens  from  her  mind,  but  they  would 
not  wholly  vanish. 

When  Beckwith  had  asked  Alice  where  she  wished 
to  spend  her  honeymoon  she  had  replied,  "Folly- 
ville,"  and  they  were  now  at  Newport.  The  big 
hotel  and  her  new  surroundings  pleased  her.  The 
wild  scenery  along  the  coast,  the  shaded  walks  and 
drives,  the  palatial  homes,  the  sea-bathing,  afforded 
constant  entertainment.  She  rambled  down  the  famous 
cliff  walk,  stretching  through  some  of  the  finest 

59 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

grounds  on  the  continent.  With  Beckwith  as  a  guide 
she  explored  the  old  and  historic  part  of  the  city,  and 
exhausted  the  objects  of  interest  in  its  environs.  They 
saw  the  annual  parade  of  the  Newport  Coaching  Club 
with  its  pageantry,  and  many  another  ingenious 
invention  of  luxury. 

Returning  one  day  from  a  visit  to  the  Old  Stone 
Mill,  Alice  heard  her  husband  and  a  stranger  talking 
together  as  she  passed  in  the  hallway  the  open  door 
of  an  adjoining  room. 

"The  early  settlers  amassed  large  fortunes  through 
commerce,"  the  stranger  was  saying.  "This  was  a 
great  place  for  ships:  the  outgoing  cargo,  rum; 
the  return  freight,  human  beings — many  chained  upon 
their  backs.  It  was  once  the  great  slave-market  of 
the  country,  and,  I  remember  well,  a  notorious  patron 
of  the  open  port  at  Charleston." 

The  voice  had  an  unpleasant  effect  upon  her.  Who 
was  the  speaker?  Evidently  the  conversation  was  not 
private,  and  she  listened. 

"Are  the  cottagers,  any  of  them,  the  descendants 
of  these  early  Newport  families?"  asked  Beckwith. 

"No — quite  the  contrary.  I  have  often  thought 
how  ironical  Fate  has  been,  for  the  slave-traders' 
descendants  treated  with  disdain  their  neighbors  with 

60 


NEWPORT 

smaller  purses,  and  they,  in  turn,  were  pained  by  the 
arrival  of  haughty  new-comers  who  established  them- 
selves on  a  still  higher  plane  by  a  much  grander 
standard  of  daily  expenditure.  And  it  was  no 
anodyne  that  the  superior  fortunes  of  the  intruders 
were  amassed  or  augmented  by  fraud." 

"A  by-product  of  civilization,"  Beckwith  inter- 
posed. 

"They  don't  get  much  out  of  it.  They  learn  to 
spell  notoriety  with  a  big  n  and  love  with  a  little  I. 
Their  sons  are  colorless  and  their  daughters,  whose 
faces  are  mere  collections  of  pretty  features,  marry 
titles,  with  the  risks  involved — physical  as  well  as 
ethical." 

"Caustic!"  thought  Alice,  and  she  entered  her 
room.  When  she  came  out  again  she  ran  into  the 
talkers  in  the  hallway. 

"My  wife,  Mr.  Hodgkin.  You  see,  I  have  done 
more  wisely  than  you!" 

"We  have  seen  each  other  before,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Hodgkin,  while  Alice  wondered  if  he  remembered 
the  occasion  when  she  had  obviously  avoided  an 
introduction. 

"Beckwith,  dear,"  chided  Alice  in  their  room  a  few 
61 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

moments  later,  "I  hope  you  have  no  more  friends  like 
Mr.  Hodgkin — so  icy  and  out  of  plumb !" 

"Before  you  get  any  further,  little  one,  let  me 
tell  you:  he  is  the  most  valuable  client  I  have;  so 
handle  him  tenderly !" 

She  mimicked  a  wry  face.  "You  have  the  best  of 
the  argument,  as  usual!  I  cannot  change  my  notion, 
though — not  right  off.  I  can't  waive  it,  as  you  say, 
but  I  will  do  my  best,  dearest." 

Alice  observed  critically  the  cottagers — "the 
Saunters,"  as  the  tradesmen  covertly  called  them. 
They  had  good  points,  but  they  were  given  over  to 
display  and  beset  with  those  incivilities  which  spring 
from  an  arrogant  heart.  More  particularly  she  noted 
a  clique  of  women  sometimes  called  "The  Hurricane 
Club."  They  were  undeniably  accustomed  to  the 
flesh-pots  of  Egypt.  Their  countenances,  vicious  or 
vacuous,  unlighted  by  devotion  to  any  good  cause  or 
worthy  creature,  revealed  characters  either  lurid  or 
drab. 

"I  am  interested — very  much  interested — in  these 
Newport  people,"  observed  Beckwith.  "What 
immense  purses  they  have!  What  rich  dressing  and 
luxurious  appointments!  And  we've  but  touched  the 
surface!  It's  marvelous." 

62 


NEWPORT 

"Very  true,"  replied  Alice.  "And  by  way  of  con- 
trast I've  been  thinking  of  your  mother — bless  her 
dear  heart!  May  she  be  spared  many  years!" 

The  wedding  trip  was  drawing  to  its  end.  The 
waving  handkerchiefs  on  the  wharf  grew  fainter  and 
fainter  as  bride  and  groom  were  seated  on  the  steamer's 
deck. 

The  dash  and  swish  of  green  and  white,  the  dreamy 
line  of  trailing  smoke,  a  sense  of  the  boat's  isolation, 
the  feeling  of  loneliness  which  pervaded  them  as  their 
separation  from  recent  scenes  became  complete,  induced 
a  reflective  mood  not  altogether  cheerful. 

The  honeymoon  was  setting,  and  Alice,  looking 
forward  to  the  sunrise  of  responsibility,  reviewed  her 
Newport  experiences,  the  display  rising  uppermost  in 
her  thoughts.  There  was  no  likelihood  that  she 
would  herself  have  the  means  to  indulge  in  elaborate 
folly,  but  the  chance  to  lead  a  useless  existence  is  open 
to  all.  Should  she  become  a  cottager  in  a  miniature 
Follyville?  On  the  other  hand,  could  she  be  con- 
tented without  any  joys  of  fashion  when  others  were 
accustomed  to  them  in  such  profusion?  She  was 
conscious  of  the  temptation  involved  in  all  she  had 
seen,  but  these  things  were  passing  and  hollow.  And 

63 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

if  this  luxuriousness  produced  results  so  melancholy, 
might  not  smaller  indulgences  beget  misfortunes  of 
less  degree?  So,  whatever  might  be  in  store  for  her, 
of  estate  or  position,  she  would  be  the  modest, 
womanly  wife;  she  would  continue  to  be  simple  in 
expenditures  and  manners,  and  would  vnever  be  useless. 
This  determination  became  fixed ;  but  not  infrequently, 
as  the  months  went  by,  she  would  check  a  wandering 
wish  with  the  reminder:  "My  Newport  resolution." 
Closer  observation  of  the  idle  rich  produced  in 
Beckwith  a  deep  and  permanent  but  different  effect. 
He  remembered  that  when  he  was  condemning  the 
extravagance  they  had  witnessed,  Alice  had  met  his 
look  with  a  wincing  glance.  It  certainly  did  not 
mean  that  she  approved  of  the  lives  or  morals  of 
these  sybarites,  but  suggested  some  ungratified  desire 
which  she  could  not  wholly  put  aside.  Reasoning 
inductively,  it  could  only  be  to  indulge  now  and  then 
in  a  few  luxuries,  and  this  was  neither  wicked  nor 
weak.  Assuredly  his  wife  should  have,  and  must 
have,  every  comfort;  but  there  was  not  much  in  his 
past  to  foster  the  hope  that  she  would  ever  have  the 
delight  of  spending  with  an  unrestrained  hand.  These 
Newport  children  of  fortune  were  unworthy,  but 
enjoyed  perennially;  she,  for  whom  no  reward  was 

64 


NEWPORT 

too  great,  must  skimp  diurnally.  It  was  unjust!  It 
was  not  a  question  of  affluence,  but  of  ordinary  happi- 
ness. What  if  he  should  die?  What  of  old  age? 
He  must  make  money  !  He  must  make  money !  And 
the  way  was  not  open  speedily  and  legitimately  in 
the  ordinary  paths  of  the  law.  Here  was  a  problem 
to  be  solved  in  some  way.  It  was  his  problem,  and 
he  would  work  it  out  alone. 


65 


CHAPTER  VH 
HOME,  SWEET  HOME 

The  sweetest  thing  in  life 
Is  the  unclouded  welcome  of  a  wife. 

—N.  P.  Willis. 

The  poorest  man  may  in  his  cottage  bid  defiance  to  all  the 
forces  of  the  crown.  It  may  be  frail — its  roof  may  shake — 
the  wind  may  blow  through  it — the  storm  may  enter — the  rain 
may  enter — but  the  King  of  England  cannot  enter! — all  his 
force  dares  not  cross  the  threshold  of  the  ruined  tenement. 

— Pitt. 

V  * 

*T*HE  troublesome  first  year  of  married  life 
had  but  half  elapsed.  The  Miller  household 
was  harmonious  save  only  for  Beckwith's  ambition 
that  his  wife  should  be  more  suitably  environed,  a 
desire  which  had  taken  form,  against  her  wish,  in 
remodeling  the  home. 

He  had  early  concluded  to  make  changes  in  the 
basement,  which  was  really  a  cellar.  Two  small 
windows  lighted  it  sufficiently  on  sunny  days,  and 
these  he  decided  to  enlarge  by  cutting  away  the  earth 
from  the  outside  of  the  cellar-wall  and  constructing 

66 


HOME,     SWEET     HOME 

light-spaces  in  front  of  them — "sepulchers"  Alice 
called  them. 

Another  improvement  had  been  determined  upon — 
carrying  back  the  cellar  under  the  rear  of  the  house 
to  give  the  owner  some  space  for  certain  purposes 
of  his  own. 

The  changes  included  locks  on  the  "sepulcher'' 
windows  and  on  the  door  leading  from  the  rear  of  the 
cellar  to  the  room  in  front,  which  was  reserved  for 
his  personal  and  unmolested  use — his  den.  It  was  to 
be  consecrated  to  science,  and  in  it  were  to  be 
unearthed  some  of  those  secrets  to  be  learned  only 
by  delving  in  silence.  These  discoveries  would  require 
years  of  labor,  but  would  make  their  author  cele- 
brated. Meanwhile  all  must  be  veiled  in  secrecy,  to 
heighten  the  effect,  to  prevent  scrutiny  which  might 
rob  the  scientist  of  his  glory  or  disturb  his  equilibrium, 
and  to  avoid  the  suggestion  of  a  lack  of  balance,  so 
often  attributed  to  men  with  scientific  leanings.  And 
lack  of  balance  is  a  hurtful  charge  to  bring  against 
a  lawyer!  This  was  the  banter  and  the  philosophy, 
the  jest  and  the  hope  of  Beckwith's  den. 

The  work  had  been  rushed,  and  as  it  progressed 
other  improvements  had  been  added,  and  much  un- 
looked-for expense  had  been  incurred,  so  that  it  had 

67 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

become  necessary  to  place  a  two-thousand-dollar  mort- 
gage on  the  remodeled  home. 

Happy  with  a  hobby,  Beckwith  was  busy  arranging 
the  den.  Many  mysterious  packages  he  carefully 
carried  there,  and  he  was  always  particular  to  lock 
the  door  behind  him.  A  tantalizing  wire  screen 
covered  the  windows  and  revealed  to  the  curious 
without  only  a  poorly  painted  shipwreck;  but  from 
within  the  view  was  unobstructed. 

But  these  alterations  were  not  the  most  important 
subject  in  the  minds  of  the  family.  Alice  was  not 
in  evidence.  Mrs.  Miller  was  filled  with  pride,  and 
anxiety  was  not  a  stranger.  No  one  could  fail  to 
observe  from  her  manner  that  something  extraordinary 
was  about  to  take  place.  Beckwith  had  become  even 
more  considerate  of  his  wife  and  gave  her  more  of  his 
time,  but  he  was  not  unmindful  of  his  den. 

In  the  course  of  time  the  looked-for  heir  arrived. 
Great  was  the  satisfaction  of  Mrs.  Miller  when  she 
was  safely  a  grandmother.  She  was  so  proud  of  her 
little  grandson  and  so  devoted  to  him  that  when  Alice 
had  gained  her  accustomed  strength,  "Alexander" 
was  well  started  on  the  way  to  be  spoiled. 

The  years  were  fleeting,  and  Beckwith  was  still 
annoyed  by  debts  and  still  devoted  much  of  his 

68 


HOME,     SWEET     HOME 

leisure  to  his  den,  where  he  spent  the  greater  part 
of  each  Sunday.  The  surroundings  of  the  homestead 
were  gradually  changing.  Near  it  from  time  to  time 
residences  of  the  first  class,  some  of  them  costly,  were 
erected,  and  around  it  the  city  was  rapidly  spreading. 
It  was  still  encumbered,  but  in  fine  repair  and  much 
improved.  As  fast  as  she  could,  without  offending 
the  mother,  Alice  had  replaced  many  belongings  of 
the  house  with  those  of  her  own  generation,  dressing 
it  at  small  expense  in  a  simple  yet  tasteful  manner. 
She  rejected  Beckwith's  suggestion  that  a  decorator 
furnish  it,  declaring  that  she  did  not  care  for  "bought 
taste." 

In  the  house,  and  about  it  in  summer-time,  mother 
and  daughter  always  kept  a  few  flowers.  This  was 
not  only  a  bond  of  sympathy  between  them,  but  a 
genuine  privilege.  Alice  created  another  avenue  of 
cheer,  a  source  of  pleasure  to  the  whole  household, 
born  of  the  desire  to  re-christen  with  fanciful  names. 
While  the  mind  is  satisfied  with  ordinary  appellations, 
the  imagination  demands  the  right  to  a  nomenclature 
of  its  own.  Alice  possessed  this  fancy  to  a  remark- 
able degree.  Nearly  everything  about  her  she  pet- 
named,  and  the  habit  grew  and  developed.  She 
constantly  gave  delicate  names  to  material  things, 

69 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

babyfied  or  angelized  those  whom  she  loved,  exag- 
gerated her  possessions  with  mock  pretense,  and 
created  another  world,  semi-celestified,  in  which  she 
lived  with  all  that  she  deemed  gentle  and  beautiful. 
This  was  possible  because  she  had  discovered  the  secret 
spring  of  happiness — she  was  contented.  For  this 
reason,  too,  she  was  able  to  forego  with  but  a  slight 
struggle  those  luxuries  which  Beckwith  first  offered 
and  then  endeavored  to  thrust  upon  her. 

Thus  she  brought  sunshine  into  her  life  and  the 
lives  of  those  around  her.  And  thus,  also,  she  was 
able  to  satisfy  in  her  own  way  a  desire  to  suitably 
pet-name  Alexander.  He  had  been  born  in  the  month 
of  May,  and  for  occasional  use  within  the  family  she 
borrowed  from  a  beautiful  story  of  Chateaubriand 
the  name  "Child  of  the  Flower  Moon." 

The  Bath  Institute  was  still  in  existence,  although 
not  flourishing  as  in  the  days  of  its  founder.  It 
shared  the  fortune  of  other  charitable  ventures,  which 
are  always  struggling,  but  never  fail.  Alice  had  a 
lively  interest  in  the  enterprise  of  her  two  best  friends. 
It  was  intimately  associated  with  her  father's  memory, 
and  it  had  been  a  contributing  cause  of  her  union 
with  her  husband.  It  needed  more  generous  support, 

70 


HOME,     SWEET     HOME 

and  she  devised  a  plan  to  provide  it.  A  few  women 
associated  together,  she  believed,  could  effectively  aid, 
as  they  did  in  kindred  organizations.  She  induced 
Beckwith  to  present  the  matter  to  the  directors. 
Eventually  the  idea  was  adopted,  and  she  was  holding 
her  first  office  in  a  "little  republic" — she  was  secretary 
of  the  board.  The  women  raised  no  small  amount  of 
money;  they  regularly  inspected  the  baths,  which 
soon  betrayed  the  touch  of  a  woman's  hand,  and  the 
institution  was  revivified  by  the  inspiration  of  its 
new-found  influence. 

Alice  had  discovered  another  real  joy.  She  not 
only  had  the  intense  gratification  to  be  gained  from 
doing  something  useful — something  for  others — but 
she  and  her  husband  had  a  cause  in  which  they  were 
both  enlisted  and  which  bound  them  more  closely 
together.  Beyond  this,  she  formed  a  friendship  with 
another  young  member  of  the  board,  of  great  activity, 
who  drew  her  into  an  informal  riding  club,  and  she 
spent  many  a  Saturday  afternoon  with  Beckwith  on 
horseback,  exploring  the  country.  Not  infrequently 
the  party  attended  the  theater  in  a  body,  and  there 
were  dinners  and  musical  and  other  entertainments, 
all  on  a  modest  scale,  but  highly  enjoyable. 

A  good  deal  of  pleasure,  therefore,  arose  out  of 

71 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

her  relations  to  the  Institute  beyond  the  delight  she 
took  in  the  work  itself.  In  all  that  she  did  there 
was  the  constant  suggestion  of  her  father's  approval, 
and  his  memory  was  an  unfailing  stimulus. 

One  evening  when  Beckwith  was  reading  by  the 
light  of  the  same  lamp  that  had  illuminated  his  first 
declaration  of  love  she  gently  folded  his  book  and 
put  her  arms  around  him  in  the  one  way  that  women 
have  when  they  are  about  to  ask  for  something  they 
really  wish.  He  laughed  outright. 

"What  is  it  now,  little  girl?  It's  yours — love 
is  indulgent — you  need  not  even  ask!  'Fine  feathers 
make ' " 

"Vain  birds!" 

She  gave  him  a  mock  slap. 

"You  have  no  idea  what  is  in  my  mind — none  in 
the  world — or  you  wouldn't  laugh." 

"I  know  I  haven't — but  I  agree  without  knowing. 
You  couldn't  get  a  better  husband  than  that !" 

"I  am  fairly  well  satisfied  with  my  husband;  but 
if  you  don't  do  what  I  want  this  time  I'll  heap  coals 
of  fire  on  your  head !  Now,  listen  to  your  big  wife ! 
I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  the  Institute.  I'm  in 
love  with  that  work  and  expect  to  follow  it  as  long 
as  I  live.  But  I  want  you  to  continue  to  have  a  keen 

72 


HOME,     SWEET     HOME 

concern  about  it,  no  matter  what  the  future  may  have 
in  store  for  us.  Since  we  have  been  helping  to  pull 
the  same  load  we  have  been  happier  even  than  before. 
Probably  we  will  not  find  anything  else  so  likely  to 
command  the  interest  of  both,  and  nothing,  certainly, 
that  will  link  us  to  father  as  this  does.  Dearest,  I 
am  young  and  lack  influence,  but  I  will  grow  and 
can  do  a  lot  in  future  years.  Let  us  make  it  our  pet. 
We  can  build  up  one  of  the  institutions  of  New  York 
in  time — you  and  I  together!" 

Athletic  arms  were  thrown  around  her. 

"We'll  give  our  best  to  it,"  exclaimed  Beckwith, 
"and  pass  it  on  to  our  children's  children.  You  are 
the  most  unselfish  and  the  sweetest  wife  in  all  New 
York,  and  I  hope  I  can  put  you  in  a  position  where 
you  can  do  for  your  pet — and  mine — something  worth 
while." 

As  time  passed  Beckwith  took  increasing  notice  of 
the  things  that  pleased  his  wife.  On  his  initiative 
they  went  to  the  opera;  there  and  elsewhere  they 
heard  the  very  best  music.  He  gave  her  books  that 
lifted  her  by  degrees  into  the  upper  realms  of  the 
art.  He  clearly  understood  the  effect  produced  by 
the  contemplation  and  study  of  higher  music  and  the 
better  class  of  musical  literature.  She  selected  for 

73 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

him  books  of  a  romantic,  simple  and  touching  kind. 
She  knew  full  well  that  he — in  his  den  a  student,  and 
away  from  home  a  man  among  men — needed  such 
an  influence,  and  it  gratified  her  deeply  to  perceive 
the  hopeful  bit  of  foliage  which  sunlight  was  coaxing 
into  life. 

If  he  took  pride  in  leading  her  to  the  highlands 
of  music,  she  found  joy  in  seeing  his  nature  mellow 
under  her  gentling  influence  while  they  wandered 
together  among  the  violets  and  forget-me-nots  in  the 
valley  of  sweet  story.  Thus  gradually  and  unre- 
servedly each  was  creeping  into  the  life  of  the  other, 
one  cultivating  the  intellect,  the  other  the  heart ;  and 
by  this  process,  in  the  glow  of  a  radiating  character, 
their  lives  were  welding  and  blending. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  TRAP 

As  soon  as  I  enter  the  door  of  a  tavern,  I  experience  an 
oblivion  of  care  and  a  freedom  from  solicitude. 

—  Samuel  Johnson. 

The  joys  of  the  table  belong  equally  to  all  ages,  conditions, 
countries  and  times;  they  mix  with  all  other  pleasures,  and 
remain  the  last  to  console  us  for  their  loss. 

—  Brillat-Savarin. 


OECKWITH'S  practice  had  improved  but  little. 
It  had  grown,  but  the  expenses  had  increased. 
Abandoning  hope  for  great  success  at  the  law,  he  had 
devoted  much  time  to  selfish  politics.  In  time  he 
became  the  master  of  a  settlement  of  Italians,  in 
the  upper  part  of  the  city,  banded  together  for 
political  purposes  under  an  almost  military  discipline. 
None  of  them  would  ask  a  favor  of  those  connected 
with  politics  except  through  the  leader;  and  the 
leader,  in  turn,  acted  solely  through  the  master. 
Beckwith  watched  him  closely  and  saw  that  he  was 
appeased  by  places  at  the  municipal  crib.  It  was  all 
done  in  such  a  way  that  the  lawyer  controlled  the 
situation,  at  least  apparently  retaining  the  power 

75 


THE    UPAS     TREE 

of  displacement.  These  rewards  were  supplemented 
with  gifts  and  free  legal  services.  Thus  it  was  that 
Beckwith's  hold  upon  the  man  was  so  absolute  that 
he  would  hardly  talk  with  the  political  agents. 

At  every  election  "Miller's  Dagos"  voted  to  a  man 
and  voted  as  he  ordered.  In  return  many  small 
favors  were  doled  out  to  them — all  they  knew  enough 
to  ask  for — though  Beckwith  was  aware  that  they 
believed  he  was  constantly  receiving  money  from  the 
party  coffers.  To  quiet  any  jealousy  he  sometimes 
served  gratuitously  the  brighter  members  of  the 
band,  invariably,  however,  at  the  contrived  request 
of  their  leader,  and  by  these  and  other  means  he 
prevented  his  cohorts  from  breaking  ranks.  Occa- 
sionally offered  recognition  by  the  local  party 
managers,  he  always  declined. 

He  did  not  overlook  the  fact  that  he  was  being 
consulted  with  increasing  frequency  by  those  higher 
in  authority.  If  he  could  hold  the  Italian  settlement, 
which  was  growing  in  numbers,  he  would  ultimately 
become  indispensable.  And  recognition  seemed  cer- 
tain if  the  system  should  endure  under  which  New 
York  was  controlled  by  public  service  corporations, 
vice  and  the  liquor  traffic — a  combination  uniformly 
holding  the  balance  of  power  in  a  patient  electorate. 

76 


THE     TRAP 

The  system  would  continue  at  least  long  enough  for 
him  to  secure  a  lucrative  public  position  or  some 
enviable  employment  with  one  of  the  interests 
involved.  Many  a  fortune  had  thus  been  started. 
And  why  not  his?  How  else  could  he  provide  for 
Alice  as  she  must  be  provided  for? 

Late  one  afternoon  a  messenger  delivered  at 
Beckwith's  office  a  letter  from  one  of  the  party  leaders. 
Beckwith's  color  deepened.  The  next  morning  he 
was  among  the  waiting  callers  at  the  offices  of  the 
Harlem  Street  Railroad  Company,  and  when  the 
hands  of  the  clock  had  moved  around  an  hour  he 
sat  at  the  mahogany  desk  of  the  general  counsel. 

"Lagorio's  fruit  store  covers  two  lots — he  has  a 
ten  years'  lease,  and  the  company  needs  the  property. 
We  have  options  on  the  rest  of  the  block — all  cleaned 
up  but  this  leasehold.  We  want  you  to  help  us.  We'll 
get  a  stranger  to  make  him  an  offer  for  his  lease,  and 
the  leader  of  your  Dagos  will  happen  around  and 
get  Lagorio  to  consult  you.  To  make  sure,  he  will 
be  told  that  you  will  not  charge  for  your  services. 
We  will  take  care  of  your  fees — liberally !" 

Beckwith  took  his  hat  from  the  table  and  turned 
it  over  in  his  hands. 

"You  needn't  hesitate,"  argued  the  tempter.     "We 

77 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

are  willing  to  pay  Lagorio  a  fair  price,  but  we  don't 
want  to  be  held  up." 

Beckwith  still  had  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

"I  have  had  my  eye  on  you  for  some  time,  Mr. 
Miller.  Yoi|  must  be  practical:  we  make  judges 
here!" 

By  the  end  of  the  week  Lagorio's  lease  belonged 
to  the  street  railroad  company,  and  the  general  coun- 
sel was  contending  with  Beckwith  over  his  bill  for 
services : 

"Exorbitant!  Unreasonable!  Impossible!  We 
could  not  live  and  pay  such  bills,"  the  corporation's 
lawyer  expostulated.  "You  will  have  to  cut  your 
charges  in  two  at  least  if  you  expect  to  get  any  more 
employment  from  us." 

Beckwith  consented  with  outward  cheerfulness, 
but  walked  home  with  his  eyes  upon  the  ground, 
immured  within  his  own  reflections. 

George  Patrick  Ennis  had  grown  from  office  boy 
to  clerk.  He  had  been  admitted  to  the  bar  and  was 
now  a  fixture  in  Beckwith's  office.  Of  late  he  could 
see  from  the  check-book  that  his  employer  was  becom- 
ing more  liberal  in  his  house  expenditures,  but  in 
other  matters  either  less  just  or  less  generous.  This 

78 


THE     TRAP 

would  have  disturbed  him  more  but  for  his  great 
admiration  for  Alice — an  affection  not  wholly  unre- 
quited, for  she  took  a  great  interest  in  him  and  had 
more  than  once  reminded  her  husband  that  he  had 
a  prize  in  his  "French  clerk." 

One  Wednesday  Beckwith  returned  home  ill- 
natured.  On  the  next  two  mornings  he  was  closeted  in 
his  den  long  beyond  the  usual  hour  of  departure 
from  the  house;  and  he  was  sullen  and  brooding. 
Alice,  quietly  inviting  a  confidence,  failed  to  gain 
any  information.  The  symptoms  were  more  aggra- 
vated than  those  of  a  passing  humor;  they  were 
unusual  with  him,  and  she  became  solicitous.  On 
Saturday  she  was  awakened  by  a  sense  of  impending 
danger;  the  premonition  would  not  shake  off,  and  she 
was  the  more  disturbed  because  it  was  inseparably, 
though  indefinitely,  associated  with  Mr.  Hodgkin. 
When  she  kissed  her  husband  goodbye  she  held  him 
close. 

"Dearest,"  she  pleaded,  "don't  ask  me  why,  but  I 
want  you  to  do  something  for  me — something  dear 
to  my  heart,  love.  I  want  you  to  make  my  happiness 
complete  by  staying  at  home  just  this  one  day — now, 
don't  refuse  me!" 

He  avoided  looking  her  in  the  eye  and  pulled  away. 

79 


"Alice,  it  is  absolutely  impossible  today — I  can't 
do  it,  much  as  I  love  you.  Now  don't  tease  me !" 

She  became  more  apprehensive,  and  for  the  first 
time  she  was  unhappy  through  any  act  of  her  husband. 
But  if  she  shed  a  tear  it  was  in  secret. 

At  noon  Mr.  Hodgkin,  serious  and  determined, 
came  to  the  office.  For  half  an  hour  lawyer  and  client 
were  closeted.  They  left  together  and  lunched  at 
"Maltby's,"  a  neighboring  saloon  and  restaurant, 
where  they  occupied  a  private  dining-room. 

Not  long  afterwards  they  descended  the  stairs  of 
the  elevated  railroad  at  155th  Street,  walked  a  short 
distance  down  Macomb's  Lane  and  stopped  under  an 
old  willow  tree  with  singular  knots  and  tumors  at  its 
base.  This  tree  had  shaded  many  a  celebrated  person. 
It  was,  so  to  speak,  a  part  of  what  had  been  known 
as  "Florence's  Hotel."  This  old  hostelry  had  been 
built  just  before  the  signing  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  and  for  some  time  it  had  been  a  matter 
of  grave  doubt  which  George  should  have  his  portrait 
upon  the  sign.  Aside  from  the  willow  tree  and  the 
age  of  the  house  there  was  nothing  particularly  inter- 
esting or  attractive  about  the  resort,  and  yet  one  felt 
an  indefinable  satisfaction  at  the  sight  of  it.  It  had 
its  own  peculiar  atmosphere,  like  that  of  a  college  or 

80 


You  must  ~be  practical:  we  make  judges  here!" 


THE     TRAP 

of  the  spots  associated  with  historical  events.  It 
was  indeed  a  visible  proof  that  "an  institution  is  the 
lengthened  shadow  of  one  man,"  for  Billy  Florence, 
the  earlier  and  famous  proprietor  of  the  place,  had 
made  it  what  it  was.  The  doorway  of  the  hotel  was 
not  large,  and  Billy,  so  tradition  ran,  had  always 
entered  it  sideways,  his  great  breadth  making  any 
other  manner  of  entrance  impossible.  He  was  remem- 
bered as  a  great  talker,  constitutionally  short  of  breath, 
so  that  his  conversation  was  intermingled  with  much 
puffing.  He  was  a  genius,  and  in  common  with  most 
geniuses  he  labored  hard  and  gave  much  attention  to 
detail,  having  the  reputation  of  setting  the  finest 
table  of  its  kind  in  upper  New  York.  In  his  cheery 
way  he  made  himself  known  to  each  of  his  guests, 
and  they  never  forgot  him. 

Billy  had  been  obliged  to  draw  his  patronage  from 
Macomb's  Lane  and  for  the  greater  part  from  those 
who  made  his  place  their  objective  point.  And  yet 
from  his  earnings  in  the  little  hotel — or  restaurant, 
for  it  contained  no  sleeping-rooms  for  guests — he  had 
accumulated  several  hundred  thousand  dollars.  His 
fortune  was  a  matter  of  great  self -pride  in  the  last 
years  of  his  proprietorship,  and  he  talked  of  it  with 
gusto,  ascribing  his  competence  and  his  worldly  suc- 

81 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

cess  always  to  his  habit  of  "doing  everything 
thoroughly." 

"Did  you  ever  hear  about  Stephen  Girard?"  he 
would  say.  "Well,  one  of  his  boyhood  friends  came 
to  Philadelphia  to  visit  him.  Girard  had  ships  of  his 
own  all  over  the  world,  and  he  owned  them  from 
bowsprit  to  rudder,  and  lived  in  a  palace.  And  his 
friend  was  poor — shiftless.  And  it  made  this  man  mad 
when  he  saw  how  much  Girard  had  and  he  had  noth- 
ing ;  and  so  he  said :  'Why,  Girard,  I  knew  you  when 
you  used  to  black  your  employer's  boots.'  Now, 
Girard,  he  didn't  get  mad.  He  simply  says  very 
quiet :  'Didn't  I  do  it  veU!9  " 

Then  Billy  would  clap  his  hands  together  as  best 
he  could  and  guffaw  until  he  shook  the  rafters. 

Remaining  from  the  days  of  the  famous  proprietor 
was  a  colored  servant  named  Robert,  middle-aged,  tall 
and  shapely,  dignified  in  carriage  and  demeanor. 
Under  ordinary  circumstances  he  was  taciturn,  but, 
when  occasion  demanded,  ready  of  speech.  During 
Robert's  long  connection  with  the  hotel  he  had  always 
occupied  a  small  room  near  the  bar.  Here  from  time 
to  time  he  overheard  things  of  interest  to  the  police, 
told  in  moments  when  too  much  liquor  unlocked  the 
tongues  of  a  gang  of  criminals  infesting  the  vicinity. 

82 


THE     TRAP 

Much  of  what  he  heard  he  communicated  to  the  secret 
service  of  the  city,  and  had  thus  established  friendly 
relations  with  many  of  the  municipal  detectives. 

Robert  was  by  nature  a  close  observer  of  men  and 
had  a  natural  hatred  of  criminals.  A  less  stolid  char- 
acter might  have  feared  foul  play  at  their  hands,  but 
he  was  certain  they  had  no  suspicion  of  him  and  felt 
secure. 

The  money  he  occasionally  received  from  the  secret 
service,  added  to  his  wages  as  a  waiter  at  the  hotel  and 
what  he  earned  by  letting  his  boat  for  fishing  parties, 
made  him  a  fair  income.  During  the  reign  of  his 
famous  employer  he  had  acquired,  also,  a  snug  sum  in 
the  way  of  tips  from  those  he  served  at  table,  many 
of  whom  were  rich  and  some  distinguished.  If  he  pos- 
sessed any  of  their  secrets,  they  were  safe  in  his 
keeping. 

Billy  had  sold  the  place  after  celebrating  its  cen- 
tennial, and  it  had  almost  immediately  dropped  out 
of  fashion.  It  had  now  become  an  ordinary — in  fact, 
a  very  ordinary — roadhouse,  of  which  the  negro  was 
still  a  part. 

When  the  two  fishermen  seated  themselves  under 
the  willow  tree,  Robert  came  from  the  hotel  with  a 
box  of  cigars.  Evidently  he  knew  what  brand  they 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

preferred.  Moreover,  he  was  familiar  with  their 
favorite  summer  drink,  for  he  placed  upon  the  table 
a  quartered  lemon,  a  siphon  of  vichy  and  glasses  well 
filled  with  ice. 

Having  attended  to  their  wants,  Robert  left  his 
patrons  alone. 

Mr.  Hodgkin  lighted  a  cigar  and  smoked  vigor- 
ously. 

"About  so  far  from  every  town  on  the  traveled 
streets,"  he  presently  observed,  "someone  sets  up  a 
roadhouse.  The  institution  seems  to  be  a  fixed  part 
of  urban  settlements." 

A  nervous  movement  of  the  hand  pitched  Beckwith's 
cigar  upon  the  ground.  As  he  picked  it  up  and 
wrapped  some  paper  around  the  end  of  it  a  scowl 
overspread  his  face,  a  savage  look  escaped  him  and 
he  glowered  at  his  companion.  He  soon  led  the  way 
a  few  steps  to  what  was  then  known  as  Macomb's 
dam  bridge,  named  after  a  property-owner  who  had 
dammed  the  river  at  this  point  and  thus  made  his 
way  to  fame. 

Here  at  one  time  eels  had  abounded,  as  well  as  bass 
and  other  fish,  making  the  place  attractive  to  anglers. 
Now  that  the  fishing-ground  was  exhausted  the  bridge 
was  still  the  starting-place  of  parties  bound  for  more 

84 


THE     TRAP 

remote  points.  The  pier  immediately  east  of  the 
bridge  had  been  abandoned  for  some  years,  and  Robert 
had  appropriated  enough  of  it  to  moor  a  boat.  He 
swiftly  rowed  his  guests  up  the  Harlem  River  to  a 
favored  fishing-ground  on  the  way  to  Spuyten  Duyvel 
Creek. 

They  glided  on  in  silence. 

From  observing  wealthy  patrons,  Robert  had  be- 
come fastidious,  particularly  with  respect  to  smok- 
ing. The  pipe  which  he  used  in  his  boat  had  a  mouth- 
piece which  screwed  into  its  stem,  and  in  a  small  box 
nailed  to  the  side  of  the  boat  were  kept  fresh  mouth- 
pieces for  use  when  he  wanted  to  make  a  change.  Mr. 
Hodgkin,  not  satisfied  with  his  cigar,  picked  up  the 
pipe,  already  filled,  took  a  fresh  mouthpiece,  put 
it  in  place  of  the  one  already  in  the  stem  and 
lighted  up.  During  the  day  he  had  been  extremely 
nervous  and  had  tried  one  cigar  after  another  only 
to  increase  the  trouble.  But  the  large  pipe  soothed 
him,  and  he  smoked  energetically  as  they  passed  on 
by  meadow  and  wood  and  country  seat. 

At  length  Robert  ceased  rowing  and  prepared  the 
lines,  casting  a  sly,  wistful  look  at  his  pipe.  A 
moment  later  all  were  statues,  molded  in  a  fisherman's 
quiet. 

85 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

As  time  passed  Mr.  Hodgkin  thought  of  his  prop- 
erty ;  the  negro,  of  his  pipe ;  while  Beckwith,  uneasy, 
shifted  about,  glancing  toward  his  client  or  looking 
far  into  the  sky  with  gloomy  brow. 

Suddenly  but  cautiously  Mr.  Hodgkin  rose.  He 
laid  down  the  pipe.  Leaning  far  out  over  the  boat,  he 
landed  a  fish.  The  exercise  and  excitement  exhausted 
him,  and  he  dropped  wearily  into  his  seat.  The  pipe 
had  meanwhile  rolled  to  his  feet.  Picking  it  up  again, 
he  lost  his  balance  and  dropped  it  overboard.  Sinking 
back,  dizzy,  he  clutched  the  sides  of  the  boat  to  sustain 
himself. 

Beckwith  watched  the  sense  of  loss  depicted  on 
Robert's  face,  but  gave  little  heed  to  his  other 
companion. 

"I've  not  been  well  all  day  and  I'm  growing  rapidly 
worse,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hodgkin.  "Robert,  get  the 
boat  back  as  fast  as  you  can.  Don't  lose  any  time! 
Indigestion,  I  guess,  Miller — but  it  takes  hold  with  an 
ugly  grip." 

The  lawyer  made  no  comment,  but  took  charge  of 
the  lines  to  leave  Robert  free. 

Shortly  Mr.  Hodgkin  was  seized  with  an  attack 
of  nausea  and  emesis,  against  which  he  vainly 
struggled. 

86 


THE     TRAP 

Beckwith's  features  relaxed,  and  he  surveyed  his 
companion  closely.  "You'll  feel  better  now,"  he  pre- 
dicted ;  "but  keep  quiet  for  a  while  until  your  nerves 
settle  down." 

The  sick  man  followed  instructions  abjectly. 

With  more  than  ordinary  strength,  born  of  appre- 
hension, Robert  rowed  toward  his  pier. 

Mr.  Hodgkin  shifted  from  one  position  to  another. 
"I'm  nervous  as  a  hawk,"  he  exclaimed,  "gloomy — 
depressed — I  can't  shake  it  off.  It's  thirty  years  since 
my  stomach  has  revolted — something  powerful  must 
be  at  work.  I've  eaten  nothing  unusual  except  some 
peaches,  but  I've  smoked  all  day." 

They  were  now  passing  another  boat,  and  Beckwith 
hailed  its  occupant.  "Got  any  brandy  or  whisky  ?" 

"Not  a  drop!    Man  sick?     Anything  serious?" 

"Cholera  morbus,  I  guess — nothing  alarming." 

Mr.  Hodgkin  had  his  finger  constantly  on  his  pulse 
and  continued  to  be  greatly  agitated.  "That  was  a 
big  pipe — strong  tobacco — too  strong."  The  words 
came  with  great  effort.  "I'm  in  for  it!  I  can't  see 
distinctly — Miller,  things  are  dim — very  dim." 

His  pulse,  which  had  become  slow  and  full,  was 
now  irregular,  while  cold  perspiration,  increasingly 

87 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

profuse,  started  on  his  forehead  and  hands,  and  the 
skin  became  clammy. 

"How  long  will  it  take  us  to  make  Florence's?" 
inquired  Beckwith  of  Robert. 

Mr.  Hodgkin  did  not  wait  for  a  reply.  "I  can't 
stand  this!  Land!  Land  over  there!  I  must  have 
a  doctor — I  won't  last  much  longer!" 

His  command  was  obeyed.  While  he  was  being  led 
from  the  boat,  he  turned  a  hopeless  look  to  the  others. 
He  dreaded  the  answer  as  he  whispered,  "Is  the  boat 
red?" 

Both  nodded  assent. 

He  looked  back  over  his  shoulder,  rubbed  his  eyes 
and  looked  again. 

"It's  blue,"  he  muttered  despairingly.  This  un- 
nerved him  more  than  the  other  symptoms,  and  he 
was  with  difficulty  assisted  to  the  only  near-by  refuge, 
a  saloon  called  Wattengurter's.  Here  the  attacks 
returned  with  violence,  in  other  ways  Nature  was 
rebelling,  and  at  intervals  full  consciousness  was  lost. 

The  sufferer  sank  heavily  to  the  floor,  exhausted. 
He  tried  to  rouse  himself,  but  his  strength  failed 
entirely.  The  brandy  offered  between  hiccoughs  he 
pushed  aside,  and  when  it  was  pressed  to  his  lips  he 
made  no  effort  to  swallow. 

88 


THE     TRAP 

Beckwith,  who  was  now  thoroughly  aroused,  ordered 
the  doors  and  windows  thrown  open. 

"Run  for  a  doctor,"  he  commanded,  turning  to 
Robert,  and  he  also  sent  on  the  same  errand  every 
intruder  whom  curiosity  or  chance  drew  into  the  room. 

With  the  assistance  of  the  barkeeper  the  sick  man 
was  lifted  from  the  floor  and  his  heavy  form  was  dis- 
posed as  comfortably  as  possible  on  the  green  top 
of  a  billiard  table,  Beckwith  taking  off  his  own  coat 
to  place  it  as  a  pillow  under  his  client's  head. 

Meanwhile  the  attacks  returned  with  varying  symp- 
toms, but  decreasingly  pronounced.  The  breathing 
gradually  became  slow  and  sighing.  The  pulse,  as 
noted  by  Beckwith,  who  felt  from  time  to  time  the 
wrist  of  his  afflicted  companion,  was  intermittent. 

At  length  a  physician  named  Beaton  arrived  and 
made  a  hurried  examination.  A  little  later  two  other 
doctors  entered  together. 

Except  for  the  whispered  questions  of  the  medical 
men  and  the  low  replies,  nothing  broke  the  silence. 
The  stricken  man  was  motionless ;  his  features  cold ; 
the  eyes  prominent,  but  expressionless,  and  the  pupils 
fixed  and  dilated. 

The  busy  doctors  looked  grave  as  they  occasionally 
counseled  in  undertones. 

89 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

Dr.  Beaton,  in  one  hand  his  watch,  in  the  other  the 
patient's  wrist,  raised  his  head  and  glanced  at  Beck- 
with,  who  was  anxiously  bending  over  him. 

"He  is  very  low." 

The  patient  closed  his  eyes  and  foamed  slightly  at 
the  mouth. 

Robert,  startled,  believed  the  worst  had  come. 

He  was  right. 

Mr.  Hodgkin  was  dead. 


CHAPTER  IX 
INTO  DUST 

The  most  intangible  of  all  visible  mysteries  —  fire. 

—  Leigh  Hunt. 

Lying  in  the  sunshine  among  the  buttercups  and  the  dande- 
lions of  May,  scarcely  higher  in  intelligence  than  the  minute 
tenants  of  that  mimic  wilderness,  our  earliest  recollections  are 
of  grass;  and  when  the  fitful  fever  is  ended  and  the  foolish 
wrangle  of  the  market  and  forum  is  closed,  grass  heals  over 
the  scar  which  our  descent  into  the  bosom  of  the  earth  has 
made,  and  the  carpet  of  the  infant  becomes  the  blanket  of  the 
dead.  —  John  J.  Ingalls. 


^I^HE  body  of  Mr.  Hodgkin  could  not  be  removed 
until  a  coroner's  jury  had  passed  upon  the  cause 
of  death.  The  jurors  readily  adopted  the  opinion 
of  the  physicians  and  found  that  dissolution  had  taken 
place  because  of  cholera  morbus  and  excessive  smok- 
ing. When  the  verdict  was  signed  Beckwith  addressed 
the  Coroner: 

"If  there's  any  real  doubt  about  the  cause  of  death, 
I  freely  consent,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  to  a  post- 
mortem." 

The    official    had    already    in    Beckwith's    hearing 

91 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

reminded  the  medical  men  that  he  had  been  criticised 
for  making  such  investigations,  on  account  of  the 
expense  which  he  was  charged  with  incurring  for  the 
benefit  of  personal  friends.  The  physicians,  now 
impatient  to  get  away,  agreed  that  the  step  was  un- 
necessary and  delivered  the  body  to  the  undertaker. 

Beckwith,  well  knowing  the  provisions  of  his 
friend's  will,  arranged  with  Mr.  Hodgkin's  safety 
deposit  company  to  surrender  the  instrument  to  an 
officer  of  the  Surrogate's  Court,  and  it  was  quickly 
filed.  In  substance  it  read : 

Item:  I  give,  devise  and  bequeath  to  Beckwith  Miller  all 
my  property  ...  in  trust  ...  to  pay  to  my  niece,  Bertha 
Hodgkin,  semi-annually  during  her  natural  life  the  net  income 
thereof,  and  after  her  death  the  .  .  .  residue  ...  to  con- 
vey ...  to  the  Public  Bath  Institute.  .  .  . 

Appended  to  the  will  was  a  codicil,  executed  five 
months  before  Mr.  Hodgkin's  death: 

Item:  ...  I  give,  devise  and  bequeath  to  Beckwith  Miller 
.  .  .  the  sum  of  Twenty-one  Thousand  Dollars  ...  as  a  gift 
and  in  full  payment  of  his  services  as  executor. 

Item:    I  direct  that  my  body  be  cremated. 

Bertha  Hodgkin  was  on  her  way  back  from  Europe, 
and  Beckwith  knew  by  what  boat  she  was  to  arrive. 

92 


INTO     DUST 

To  wait  for  her  would  occasion  but  twenty-four  hours' 
delay ;  but,  deaf  to  the  earnest  protestations  of  those 
at  home,  he  arranged  by  telegraph  for  incineration 
in  the  crematory  at  Washington,  Pennsylvania.  Alice 
insisted  that  he  should  personally  carry  out  every  wish 
his  generous  friend  had  expressed  in  his  "fire  and 
water  will,"  but  pleaded  for  a  day's  postponement. 

The  next  morning  the  train  rolled  into  the  little 
village  of  Washington.  Under  other  circumstances 
Beckwith  would  have  looked  upon  the  old-fashioned 
houses  and  streets  with  the  feeling  that  time-worn 
things  inspire,  but  which  words  fall  short  of  express- 
ing. The  lifeless  scene  would  have  induced  reflections 
upon  the  progress  of  decay — thoughts  of  the  histories 
written  upon  the  old  habitations:  a  birth,  a  babe  in 
arms,  a  little  child  carelessly  at  play,  a  boy,  a  man, 
a  family — and  crape  upon  the  door!  How  many 
times,  in  poetry  and  prose — in  broken  lines  and 
lengthened  sentences,  in  characters  so  fine  as  scarcely 
to  be  legible,  in  bold  and  rounded  hand  with  here  and 
there  a  blur — was  the  ancient  story  written  on  those 
homes ! 

But  Beckwith's  thoughts  were  not  free,  nor  would 
they  be  at  rest  until  his  task  was  done. 

He  entered  a  carriage,  the  body  of  his  friend  was 

93 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

transferred  to  a  hearse,  and  the  living  and  the  dead 
passed  up  the  graceful  hills  to  the  crematory.  This 
had  been  built  in  1876  at  a  cost  of  but  fifteen  hundred 
dollars  by  one  of  the  early  abolitionists,  Dr.  F.  Julius 
Le  Moyne,  who  was  the  third  person  to  return  to  dust 
within  its  walls. 

The  structure  was  fenced  off  from  the  adjoining 
farm  and  the  space  around  it  planted  with  shrubbery. 
Beckwith  followed  the  gravel  walk  to  the  reception- 
room,  where  a  granddaughter  of  the  late  proprietor 
was  waiting.  This  little  maid,  black -haired  and  pretty, 
took  a  chair  beside  him  and  looked  inquiringly  into 
his  face.  A  few  of  the  neighboring  farmers  and  vil- 
lagers gazed  vacantly  about.  The  primitive  people 
respected  the  place  and  the  event. 

The  view  from  the  room  was  obscured  by  a  bank 
of  trees,  but  even  the  leaves  were  still. 

The  minister  entered,  and,  close  behind,  kindly 
strangers  followed  with  the  casket  and  placed  it  upon 
its  standards. 

The  simple,  eloquent  burial  service  of  the  Episcopal 
Church  was  read,  and  when  the  curious  crowd  had 
departed,  the  attendants  placed  upon  a  long,  heavy 
table  a  wrought-iron  cradle,  shaped  to  hold  a  human 
form.  The  body,  wrapped  in  a  sheet  saturated  with 

94 


INTO     DUST 

alum,  was  lifted  into  the  cradle — that  symbol  of 
rest  at  the  beginning  now  reserved  for  the  end  of 
life — and,  all  being  in  readiness,  was  brought  to  the 
furnace-room. 

The  door  of  the  retort  was  thrown  open. 

Instantly  the  dazzling  whiteness  within  was  changed 
to  an  iridescent  red,  incomparable  to  anything  Beck- 
with  had  ever  seen,  the  varied  tints  dancing  and  flit- 
ting in  countless  surprises. 

The  cradle  was  pushed  into  the  retort.  Through 
the  isinglass  in  the  closed  door  Beckwith,  with  pale 
face,  was  permitted  to  watch  for  but  not  to  see  the 
effect  of  the  consuming  heat,  for  the  alumed  shroud 
hid  its  captive  from  view.  No  smoke,  nor  odor,  nor 
steam,  nor  suggestive  sound,  indicated  the  process  of 
nature  which  the  fire  was  accelerating.  No  flames 
reached  the  body:  the  change  that  was  taking  place 
was  purely  chemical. 

Beckwith  was  aware  that  in  some  of  the  Old  World 
crematories,  less  crude,  a  heat  of  2700  degrees  Fahr- 
enheit is  obtained  and  cremation  is  consummated  within 
a  short  time,  but  he  was  informed  that  it  would  be 
ten  hours  before  this  incineration  would  be  complete. 
He  made  no  comment,  but  turned  toward  the  open 

door. 

95 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

A  messenger  ran  up  the  walk,  out  of  breath,  and 
thrust  into  his  hand  a  telegram.     He  opened  it : 

I    forbid   cremation.     Beach   Washington   tomorrow.     Stop 
everything.  BEETHA  HODQKIN. 


CHAPTER  X 
A  WOMAN  SCORNED 

A  luxurious  life  does  not  foster  a  luxuriant  character. 

T—Maj.  Russell. 

* 

'TpROUBLE  was  brewing.  Beckwith  had  to  deal 
with  a  woman  scorned  and  one  jealous  of  her 
authority,  and  this  was  by  no  means  the  end  of  the 
chapter.  He  divined  that  as  soon  as  Miss  Hodgkin 
had  landed,  a  plausible  representative  of  one  of  the 
grasping  detective  bureaus  had  secured  an  audience 
with  her.  By  insinuation  and  a  surprising  knowledge 
of  unimportant  but  obscure  facts,  harping  upon  the 
will  and  its  codicil,  so  largely  in  a  stranger's  favor, 
and  the  sudden  death  of  her  uncle,  the  cunning  detec- 
tive had  injected  more  poison  into  a  mind  already 
envenomed,  aroused  suspicions — and  obtained  employ- 
ment. 

Ignoring  the  telegram,  Beckwith  gave  no  directions 
to  stop  the  havoc  of  the  flames.  With  clouded  brow 
he  followed  the  trail  across  the  peaceful,  billowy  hills, 
so  richly  carpeted  in  green  and  horizoned  by  the 

97 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

azure  sky,  to  the  town  with  its  deserted  streets  and 
homes  bent  with  age.  In  spite  of  his  forebodings  he 
gave  a  moment  to  the  reflection  that  the  oven  on  the 
hill  which  was  destroying  the  yet  imperfect  work  of 
the  great  destroyer  had  been  erected  and  maintained 
for  years  by  a  pioneer  in  an  important  reform,  and 
he  mentally  paid  reverence  to  the  brave  heart  that 
had  prompted  this  suggestion  to  a  continent. 

Pregnant  apprehension  did  not  keep  Beckwith  from 
the  grounds  of  the  college.  He  knew  the  story.  It 
had  struggled  for  many  years  under  the  name  of 
Washington.  The  career  of  its  neighbor,  Jefferson, 
at  Canonsburg,  was  similar.  In  their  old  age  they  had 
married  and  were  now  journeying  on  together  in  a 
simple,  useful  and  ideal  union,  bearing  the  name  of 
both.  Viewing  the  venerable  school,  he  first  allowed 
his  mind  to  dwell  on  the  vain  regret  that  he  could 
not  have  laid  more  broadly  the  foundations  of  his 
education.  He  soon  felt  more  at  ease,  even  if  not 
altogether  undisturbed.  The  suggestion  of  student 
life,  the  atmosphere  of  a  college  enclosure,  the  charm 
of  study  halls,  the  glamour  of  cap  and  gown,  the  halo 
of  learning — all  this  he  could  understand,  even  if  it 
were  not  consecrated  by  memories.  His  spirit  was 
mellowed,  and  there  stole  into  his  consciousness  a  sense 

98 


A     WOMAN     SCORNED 

of  the  personal  presence  of  one  whose  happiness  was 
wholly  dependent  upon  his  own. 

By  evening  the  incineration  was  complete.  What 
remained  of  the  human  form  laid  in  its  fiery  bed  not 
many  hours  before  was  but  a  few  white  bones  silently 
crumbling. 

The  next  morning  the  ashes  were  placed  in  a  small 
box  and  carefully  sealed,  to  be  guarded  until  the  niece 
should  arrive. 

Beckwith  wished  to  know  the  extent  of  the  destruc- 
tion which  he  had  in  part  witnessed,  and  at  his  request 
the  box  was  weighed.  All  but  seven  pounds  of  the 
heavy  figure  of  his  companion  had  been  consumed. 

At  the  station,  a  few  bystanders  seemed  to  take  an 
unwarranted  interest  in  Beckwith,  but  he  was  indiffer- 
ent to  their  staring  and  occasional  whisperings. 

As  Miss  Hodgkin  stepped  from  the  train  he  had 
opportunity  to  observe  the  change  which  a  few 
years  of  high  living  and  low  thinking  had  made — a 
change  much  exaggerated  by  his  new  angle  of  vision. 
The  coloring  was  notable:  the  face  had  a  deeper  red, 
which  made  hair,  eyebrows  and  eyelashes  seem  intensely 
black;  the  expression  was  sinister;  the  jaw  was  more 
set;  and  an  imperious  bearing  dominated  every  move- 
ment. 99 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

Miss  Hodgkin's  eye  met  Beckwith's,  and  she  went 
quickly  to  him.  He  was  ill  at  ease ;  he  felt  that  early 
sense  of  the  woman's  power — now  greatly  augmented, 
but  in  a  different  way.  He  was  on  the  defensive  and 
plainly  cautious. 

She  did  not  offer  her  hand,  but  surveyed  him  and 
tossed  her  head. 

"Have  my  instructions  been  obeyed?"  she  asked, 
her  eyes  snapping. 

"Your  telegram  came  too  late,  Miss  Hodgkin." 

Her  sharp  manner  riveted  the  attention  of  the 
onlookers,  and  they  elbowed  one  another,  eager  to 
catch  each  word  that  passed. 

"Oh!  it  did?  Well,  you'll  account  to  me  at  another 
time,  Beckwith  Miller."  She  fastened  upon  him  the 
eyes  of  a  serpent,  and  they  plainly  said:  "Now  I'll 
wreak  the  revenge  I  promised  you  years  ago." 

"I  have  obeyed  your  uncle's  instructions,  and  the 
urn  is  at  the  crematory  subject  to  your  orders;  so  I 
am  through,"  Beckwith  said,  unabashed,  as  he  waved 
himself  aside  with  a  sweep  of  his  hat. 

He  occupied  an  awkward  position  in  the  eyes  of 
the  depot  crowd.  While  they  did  not  understand  the 
situation,  he  knew  that  they  regarded  him  with  little 
favor,  and  he  determined  to  rid  himself  of  the  annoy- 

100 


A     WOMAN     SCORNED 

ance  at  the  earliest  moment.  Following  Miss  Hodg- 
kin  down  the  platform,  he  addressed  her  in  a  tone  of 
pretended  apathy. 

"Pardon  me :  I  wish  to  be  relieved  of  responsibility, 
and  I  take  it  for  granted  that  you  care  for  nothing 
further  from  me." 

"You  may  return  home,"  was  the  swift  and  con- 
temptuous reply. 

Bowing  slightly,  he  made  his  way  to  the  small  hotel, 
and  shortly  went  back  to  the  station. 

The  crowd  had  grown.  The  telegraph  operator 
had  made  known  the  contents  of  the  telegram.  More- 
over it  transpired  that  two  men  who  had  come  on  the 
train  were  chemists  from  Pittsburgh.  The  news  had 
spread  and  the  townspeople  were  alive  with  excitement. 
When  Beckwith  boarded  the  train  he  was  the  central 
object  of  a  throng. 

Having  nothing  to  do  or  to  direct,  the  chemists  left 
by  the  next  train,  while  Miss  Hodgkin  remained 
another  day. 

Special  press  representatives  ran  out  from  Pitts- 
burgh, and  by  the  time  the  niece  left  with  the  ashes 
of  the  dead  the  place  was  alive  with  perplexed  people. 

The  mysterious  proceedings  at  Washington  were 
reported  with  many  embellishments  in  the  metropolitan 

101 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

newspapers,  and  on  his  return  Beckwith  and  his 
family  were  besieged  by  reporters.  But  the  lips  of 
all  concerned  were  closed.  Even  George  dismissed  all 
who  made  inquiries  with  the  words : 

"Know  nothing  and  have  nothing  to  say." 

Soon  Beckwith  realized  that  he  was  being  constantly 
followed  and  watched,  but  he  carefully  kept  this 
knowledge  from  those  at  home. 

To  add  to  the  mystery  Robert  could  not  be  found. 

The  family  were  anxious.  Appearances  were  espe- 
cially difficult  to  maintain  at  the  table.  No  one  ate 
with  any  relish,  and  even  Alexander  shared  the  nervous 
loss  of  appetite. 

While  Beckwith  went  to  his  office  as  usual,  he  was 
visited  by  few  clients  or  former  friends.  Occasionally 
he  stepped  over  to  one  of  the  courtrooms,  but  even 
there,  from  the  bench,  among  the  bar  and  the  clerks, 
he  found  only  curiosity  and  coldness.  The  finger  of 
public  suspicion  was  pointing  at  him.  All  this  he 
might  have  endured  with  comparative  ease  if  he  could 
only  have  escaped  from  the  ever-present  detectives 
with  their  apparent  unconcern.  They  haunted  him 
until  he  came  to  regard  all  strangers  as  eavesdroppers 
and  trusted  no  one. 

All  this  time  Beckwith  had  not  seen  Miss  Hodgkin. 

102 


A     WOMAN     SCORNED 

She  was  not  even  present  when  the  will  and  codicil 
were  proved.  Nor  had  she  communicated  with  him  in 
any  way. 

On  entering  his  office  one  morning  Beckwith  found 
his  safe  drilled  and  the  contents  gone.  Every  vestige 
of  writing,  including  his  letter-books  and  records,  had 
disappeared.  His  clerk,  maudlin,  with  bloodshot  eyes 
and  colorless  cheeks,  sat  looking  wildly  at  the  wreck. 

Beckwith  was  sullen. 

"George,"  he  said,  "I  hoped  your  self-respect  would 
keep  you  from  drinking,  and  I  believed  you  had  too 
much  gumption  to  be  outwitted  by  one  of  those  detec- 
tives in  so  simple  a  manner.  You  are  old  enough  to 
know  better." 

He  wandered  to  the  open  window  and  stood  with  a 
foot  upon  the  sill,  his  elbow  resting  on  his  elevated 
knee,  and  his  cheek  on  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

The  clouds  were  gathering. 

Absorbed  in  his  reflections,  he  failed  to  notice  a 
slight  pressure  on  his  coat-sleeve.  George,  remorseful 
and  melted  to  pity  by  his  employer's  situation,  had 
advanced  noiselessly  to  him,  his  head  bowed  and  his 
eyes  moist. 

"Mr.  Miller,  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  these  papers 
and  things  being  gone.  The  police " 

103 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

The  lawyer  nodded  his  head  to  indicate  that  he 
understood,  and  then  placed  his  hand  sympathetically 
on  the  boy's  shoulder.  In  the  past  he  had  valued 
merely  the  respect  of  his  clerk,  but  now  he  realized 
that  he  was  drifting  to  a  point  where  he  might  need  his 
friendship. 

Beckwith  knew  his  books  and  papers  would  soon 
be  returned.  He  knew,  too,  that  some  facts  would  be 
learned  from  them  that  would  embarrass  him  should 
he  be  accused  of  murdering  his  client.  And  it  galled 
him  that  his  right  of  freedom  from  search,  guaranteed 
under  the  constitutions  of  his  State  and  his  nation, 
had  been  set  at  naught. 

The  thought  of  strangers  examining  his  private 
papers  and  invading  the  sacred  confidences  of  his 
clients  outraged  his  conception  of  justice.  The  first 
principles  of  liberty,  here,  in  free  America,  had  been 
ruthlessly  violated. 

His  distress  was  complete.  The  satisfaction  of  his 
occupation,  his  office,  his  home — all — had  been 
destroyed. 

Beckwith  left  his  work  earlier  than  usual  that  day 
to  help  prepare  for  another  of  the  annual  baseball 
dinners,  but  his  wrongs  and  worries  he  kept  secret. 

The  boys  had  won.     They  were  in  fine  fettle,  but 

104 


A     WOMAN     SCORNED 

repressed.  They  were  aware  that  their  friend  was  in 
trouble,  but  they  did  not  know  how  deeply.  They 
had  delicately  suggested  abandoning  the  event  for 
that  year,  but  had  been  met  with  a  flat  refusal.  In 
the  ardor  of  speaking  the  boys  forgot  somewhat  their 
restraint  on  the  one  hand,  but,  on  the  other,  their 
homage  to  the  host  was  too  marked. 

A  fine  bit  of  humor  drew  from  Beckwith  once  again 
his  royal  laugh  and  spontaneously  brought  forth  the 
free  applause  of  youth,  but  it  shocked  Alice.  A 
moment  later  her  husband's  eyelids  drooped  and  his 
countenance  assumed  an  unwonted  expression.  She 
sensed  something  gravely  wrong.  Turning,  she  saw 
an  officer  of  the  law  standing  in  the  doorway,  mute 
and  like  a  statue. 

Beckwith  was  a  prisoner. 


105 


CHAPTER  XI 
IN  THE  TOMBS 

I  never  saw  a  man  who  looked 

With  such  a  wistful  eye 
Upon  that  little  tent  of  blue 

Which  prisoners  call  the  sky, 
And  at  every  wandering  cloud  that  trailed 

Its  raveled  fleeces  by.  — Wilde. 


arrest  created  a  sensation.  For  years  the 
administration  of  the  criminal  courts  in  the 
community  had  been  lax,  and  the  press  urged  a  vigor- 
ous and  relentless  prosecution. 

The  fact  that  the  lawyer  was  the  only  person  who 
could  have  had  a  motive  for  murdering  Mr.  Hodgkin 
pointed  strongly,  though  negatively,  to  him  as  the 
murderer.  Positive  evidence  of  guilt  was  not  so  easy 
to  obtain. 

The  investigations  made  by  the  Pittsburgh  chemists, 
who  were  reported  to  have  been  permanently  employed 
on  the  case,  were  kept  from  the  public. 

What  was  disclosed  by  the  papers  found  in  the 
prisoner's  office  was  likewise  a  secret. 

106 


IN     THE     TOMBS 

At  length  it  transpired  that  Beckwith  had  a  large 
bank  account  in  a  fund  marked  "Special." 

Other  facts  were  unearthed  from  day  to  day 
through  the  diligence  of  the  reporters,  but  a  great 
deal  of  mystery  enveloped  the  situation. 

When  interest  lagged,  the  District  Attorney  would 
be  quoted  as  saying  that  the  case  was  the  clearest 
instance  of  murder  that  had  come  to  his  knowledge. 
He  was  not  unmindful  of  the  influence  of  such  state- 
ments, for  they  had  the  weight  of  official  declarations 
in  the  popular  mind  by  reason  of  the  prestige  of  his 
office. 

Public  feeling  was  strong.  While  it  granted  the 
accused  the  right  to  an  impartial  trial  under  the  law, 
it  demanded  his  life  should  he  be  found  guilty. 

Beckwith  was  a  prisoner  in  the  Tombs.  It  was 
here  that  he  had  met  his  first  client.  His  start  had 
been  acquired  by  defending  prisoners  not  able  to 
employ  counsel,  and  by  faithfully  and  courageously 
serving  them  and  absorbing  all  that  he  could  from 
the  experience.  In  this  way  he  had  gradually  earned 
something  of  a  reputation,  and  then  he  had  abandoned 
the  unsavory  criminal  courts. 

The  Tombs  had  thus  been  the  objective  point  of 
frequent  visits  for  a  long  period.  He  had  gone  in 

107 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

and  out  with  no  special  thought  of  the  place.  But 
as  a  prisoner,  he  had  entered  it  with  different  feelings 
and  could  understand  more  fully  how  his  clients  had 
chafed  under  their  confinement. 

The  prison  had  stood  for  almost  half  a  century. 
Near  by,  at  one  time,  there  was  a  fresh-water  lake, 
later  known  as  "Collect  Pond."  It  was  in  this  lake 
that  John  Fitch,  Fulton's  greatest  predecessor  if  not 
himself  the  real  inventor  of  the  steamboat,  floated 
the  first  propeller.  Collect  Pond  had  an  outlet  into 
the  Hudson  River  through  Lispenard's  meadows, 
which  were  drained  in  after  years  by  a  ditch  that  gave 
the  name  to  Canal  Street,  and  a  swamp  marked  both 
sides  of  the  street  from  the  river  to  the  site  of  the 
Tombs. 

When  it  was  determined  to  erect  a  city  prison  the 
Collect  grounds  were  chosen.  At  that  time  a  book  of 
travels  which,  among  other  things,  described  with 
graphic  detail  an  Egyptian  tomb,  attracted  a  great 
deal  of  attention.  This  description,  forming  one  of 
the  most  entertaining  parts  of  the  book,  struck  the 
fancy  of  the  public  and  suggested  the  design  as  well 
as  the  name  of  the  new  city  jail.  Certainly  this  pile 
of  somber  gray  granite  with  its  severe  and  massive 
Egyptian  architecture  fitted  the  accepted  idea  of  a 

108 


IN     THE     TOMBS 

prison,  indicating  a  designer  of  master  mind  rather 
than  the  evolution  of  a  mere  hint  in  a  book  of  passing 
favor. 

Collect  Pond  had  been  filled  with  the  rubbish  and 
refuse  of  the  city,  and  the  structure  reared  upon 
ground  thus  made  could  hardly  be  healthful.  The 
Tombs  was,  indeed,  damp,  and  occasionally,  when  water 
was  forced  back  from  the  drain-pipes  into  the  cells,  the 
sanitary  conditions  became  alarming.  Dickens  and 
Thackeray  both  referred  with  indignation  to  the 
unwholesome  character  of  the  place ;  public  as  well  as 
private  criticism  was  sweeping  and  frequent ;  but  the 
evils  had  never  been  even  ameliorated,  and  the  pris- 
oners, many  of  them  innocent,  continued  to  endure  the 
double  punishment.  The  prison,  in  spite  of  all  this, 
was  popular  enough,  however,  thirty  thousand  of 
God's  own  creatures  being  committed  to  it  in  a  single 
year — a  hundred  for  every  week-day. 

Beckwith  was  confined  in  one  of  the  cells  allotted 
to  those  charged  with  serious  offenses.  Upon  the  wall 
immediately  outside  the  door  hung  a  small  slate,  such 
as  he  had  bought  for  Alexander,  and  upon  it  were 
written  the  words: 


Beckwith  Miller,     Murder. 
109 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

The  doorway  was  so  low  that  he  had  to  stoop  to 
pass  through,  and  it  was  barely  wide  enough  to  admit 
him.  But  every  afternoon  the  prisoners  were  allowed 
to  use  at  will  the  iron  walk  extending  around  the 
entire  court  in  front  of  the  rows  of  cells  which  faced 
and  kept  watch  of  each  other. 

The  white  interior  walls  contrasted  sharply  with  the 
black  doors,  but  the  effect  upon  eye  and  nerve  was 
monotonous.  To  Beckwith  even  the  faces  of  his  unfor- 
tunate fellows  became  tiresome.  With  head  erect  and 
chest  expanded  he  doggedly  paced  around  his  tier, 
replacing  as  nearly  as  possible  his  daily  walk  part  of 
the  way  home  from  his  office.  A  low  cot  with  a  soiled 
and  worn  comfort,  a  pine  chair  and  washstand  com- 
prised the  furniture  of  his  room. 

Soon  after  his  imprisonment  he  asked  for  pen  and 
ink  and  paper.  At  the  sight  of  the  writing-materials 
a  neighboring  prisoner  who  had  been  refused  a  like 
request  broke  into  a  blasphemous  tirade,  heaping  on 
the  turnkey  every  oath  and  vile  epithet  at  his  com- 
mand. His  billingsgate  aroused  the  venom  of  other 
criminals,  who  swore  and  cursed  at  him.  In  such  a 
sulphurous  atmosphere  Beckwith  penned  this  letter  to 
his  loved  ones: 

110 


IN     THE     TOMBS 

Dearest  Wife  and  Mother: 

I  am  not  settled  in  my  temporary  prison,  but  send  you  an 
account  of  my  surroundings.  I  hope  you  will  mention  it  to  no 
one  and  will  keep  silent  under  all  circumstances.  You  must 
not  feel  bitter  or  alarmed.  Under  the  law  at  times  we  must 
suffer  for  the  common  good.  My  situation  here  is  not  deplor- 
able. The  food  is  plain,  but  wholesome;  the  "dormitory,"  as 
it  might  be  called,  is  clean  and  neat,  and  the  ventilation  fair. 
My  room  is  not  large,  but  it  is  comfortable.  The  officers  are 
considerate.  I  am  shut  off  from  the  other  occupants,  and  you 
need  not  think  of  me  as  undergoing  a  great  hardship.  George 
will  call  at  the  house  for  any  messages  you  may  wish  to  send, 
and  we  will  arrange  for  your  visits. 

I  trust,  Alice,  dearest,  you  are  better.  Be  brave!  I  shall 
employ  counsel  and  see  that  I  am  vindicated  at  the  earliest 
moment.  Eest  assured  on  one  point :  even  if  I  were  guilty 
there  would  not  be  the  least  danger  of  their  inflicting  the  death 
penalty  on  me.  But  I  mean  to  prove  my  innocence  for  your 
sake  even  more  than  my  own. 

I  deeply  regret  bringing  this  trouble  upon  you  who  of  all 
women  do  not  deserve  it.  My  love  to  my  dear  boy  and  to  you, 
my  faithful  companions.  My  will  is  unconquered. 

Lovingly,  BECKWITH. 

For  some  days  Beckwith  had  believed  that  he  would 
be  arrested,  and  he  had  deliberately  considered  the 
phraseology  of  his  first  message  from  prison,  having 
in  mind  that  it  might  be  read  by  the  jailer  before  it 
reached  the  post-box. 

His  next  consideration  was  to  determine  who  could 
best  defend  him.  His  choice  was  Colonel  Sickles,  a 
lawyer  no  longer  in  his  prime,  but  experienced  and 

111 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

still  considered  a  man  of  strength.  How  to  raise 
sufficient  money  to  meet  his  demands  was  the  real 
problem.  He  asked  for  an  interview,  and  the  next 
day  the  turnkey  appeared  and  led  him  down  the  iron 
steps  out  into  the  free  air  and  across  the  jailyard 
to  the  two  large  rooms  used  for  consultation  between 
lawyers  and  their  clients,  irreverently  called  "the 
cage." 

Here  was  the  Colonel.  He  had  seen  service,  though 
his  title  was  not  fully  earned.  A  captain  in  the  Union 
army,  he  had  been  brevetted  major  and  arbitrarily  pro- 
moted among  civilians  to  the  rank  of  colonel.  He  was 
of  average  height  and  weight,  with  regular  features, 
on  which  account,  perhaps,  he  wore  no  beard  or  mus- 
tache. His  hair  and  eyes  were  brown.  His  attire 
was  plain  almost  to  the  point  of  affectation,  his  only 
adornment  being  a  ring  of  wide  band,  set  with  a  large, 
flat  emerald,  undoubtedly  dictated  by  sentiment — if 
not  sacred,  at  least  secret,  for  he  never  explained  why 
he  wore  it  or  how  he  had  come  by  it.  When  it  was  the 
subject  of  comment  he  volunteered  the  statement  that 
it  was  a  present  from  a  friend  in  the  land  of  blarney. 

He  was  what  Alice  called  a  "medium."  Though 
the  Colonel  in  stature  and  other  physical  characteris- 
tics was  a  medium  man,  he  was  by  no  means  a  medium 


IN     THE     TOMBS 

lawyer.  One  would  know  he  was  a  success  in  some 
avenue  of  life  by  the  extraordinary  brilliancy  of  his 
eye,  the  quickness  of  his  movements  and  the  power  of 
which  his  general  bearing  unmistakably  told. 

"Hello,  Beck.  In  trouble,  my  boy?  Not  serious, 
I  hope!" 

"Well,  not  far  from  it,  Colonel;  but  you  have  won 
more  hopeless  cases,  and  I  am  innocent." 

The  two  lawyers  walked  to  the  most  retired  corner 
of  the  farther  room  and  leaned  against  the  heavy 
wall. 

Beckwith  touched  upon  the  main  features  of  the 
case.  The  dreaded  question  of  fees  he  reserved  to 
the  last,  making  a  frank  confession  of  his  estate — in 
reality  a  balance-sheet. 

When  he  concluded  the  Colonel  looked  grave. 

"It's  worse  than  I  anticipated,"  he  said,  as  he 
twirled  a  bunch  of  keys  upon  his  index  finger.  "The 
case  will  require,  in  preparation  and  trial,  an  enormous 
outlay  of  time  and  considerable  money.  I  had  not 
been  with  you  long  before  I  guessed  the  conditions 
with  respect  to  money  matters.  While  we've  been 
talking  I  have  been  considering  the  situation,  and 
this  is  the  way  it  presents  itself  to  me :  Here  you  are, 
Beck,  a  poor  devil  of  a  lawyer,  in  peril.  You  can't 

113 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

conduct  jour  own  defense,  for,  as  we  say,  'a  lawyer 
who  tries  his  own  case  has  a  fool  for  a  client.'  Poor 
counsel  could  lose  this  case  easily,  and  I  don't  sup- 
pose any  lawyer  of  ability  is  likely  to  come  forward. 
You  will  need  every  cent  you  can  get  together  for 
the  expenses,  apart  from  attorney's  fees.  Have  you 
any  friend  at  the  bar  who  will  look  after  you  and 
make  no  charge?" 

"No,  Colonel — not  that  I  know  of." 

"Well,  my  sun  is  setting,  and  while  our  profession 
has  honored  me,  I  have  done  nothing  in  return.  Here 
is  a  chance,  sure  enough!  I've  about  made  up  my 
mind  to  serve  you.  But  you  must  remember  that  I 
am  paying  an  obligation  to  our  calling.  If  you  were 
not  a  lawyer  you'd  have  to  put  up  with  the 
services  of  some  tyro,  and  then  you'd  be  in  a  fix. 
So,  when  we  get  through  you'll  owe  a  big  debt  to  the 
profession,  and  I  want  you  to  pay  it — not  to  me,  you 
understand — not  to  me — but  to  the  profession.  Of 
course,  if  you  win,  you'll  be  able  to  take  care  of  me 
out  of  your  income  from  the  estate.  I'll  leave  that  to 
you.  Otherwise,  my  friend,  command  me  without 
stint  and  without  price." 

This  chivalrous  offer  Beckwith  had  not  expected. 

114 


IN     THE     TOMBS 

It  was  like  a  rope  thrown  to  a  drowning  man,  and  he 
controlled  his  emotion  with  difficulty. 

"You  are  generous — too  generous !"  he  said. 
"While  I  must  accept  your  services  without  present 
compensation,  I  can  lighten  your  burden.  I  have  a 
faithful  clerk — a  lawyer — who  will  be  of  assistance  to 
you.  I'll  arrange  with  him  to  give  you  all  his  time 
until  the  case  is  tried.  When  he  is  not  busy  with  you 
he  can  be  useful  to  me." 

"That  is  handsome !    We'll  get  on  famously." 
Beckwith  well  knew  the  importance  of  able  counsel 
in   a   serious  case,  and  as  the   Colonel  departed   he 
thanked   him   with   fervor   for   himself   and   for   his 
family. 


115 


CHAPTER  XII 
SUN  AND  SHADOW 


When  Anacharsis  knew  what  Solon  was  about,  he  laughed  at 
his  undertaking,  and  at  the  absurdity  of  imagining  he  could 
restrain  the  avarice  and  injustice  of  his  citizens  by  written 
laws,  which  in  all  respects  resembled  spiders'  webs,  and  would, 
like  them,  only  entangle  and  hold  the  poor  and  weak,  while  the 
rich  and  powerful  easily  broke  through  them. 

— Plutarch. 

* 


T  F  Beckwith's  well-developed  telepathic  faculty  was 
to  be  relied  upon  his  lawyer  was  inclined  to  believe 
him  guilty !  But  every  situation  has  its  hopeful  logic : 
the  lawyer  would  strive  all  the  harder!  While  Beck- 
with  knew  that  the  case  was  not  an  easy  one,  he  was 
not  overanxious  as  to  the  result.  The  fear  that  most 
disturbed  him  was  that  he  could  not  meet  the  expenses 
of  the  trial.  To  provide  funds  while  confined  in  a 
cell  seemed  a  mountainous  undertaking.  Another 
worry  was  present.  He  had  hitherto  looked  upon  the 
Colonel  with  the  envious  eyes  of  the  young  practi- 
tioner. Now,  when  he  analyzed  him  from  the  stand- 
point of  a  client  who  had  liberty  and  possibly  life  at 

116 


SUN     AND     SHADOW 

stake,  there  was  a  suggestion  of  waning  power  not 
altogether  comforting.  But  he  could  not  tell  how 
much  of  this  feeling  was  produced  by  contrast  with 
his  own  vitality.  One  thing  was  certain:  if  he  had 
not  employed  the  best  counsel,  he  had  employed  the 
best  obtainable. 

Beckwith  next  arranged  with  the  officers  of  the  bank 
to  manage  the  Hodgkin  estate  and  attend  to  the  duties 
imposed  upon  him  by  the  will.  Miss  Hodgkin's  inter- 
ests, of  course,  were  safe,  and  she  had  been  instructed 
not  to  interfere  for  the  time  being  except  to  pre- 
serve her  status.  She  was  in  any  event  entitled  to 
most  of  the  income,  and  it  was  possible  to  borrow  upon 
her  expectancy  sufficient  money  to  gratify  her  per- 
sonal wants  as  well  as  to  push  the  prosecution  to  the 
utmost.  Accordingly,  she  had  complied  with  the  first 
formalities  required  for  a  contest  of  the  will  and  then 
consented  to  a  truce  under  which  Beckwith  was  to  have 
nothing  from  the  estate  until  his  fate  should  be  finally 
decided.  She  had,  therefore,  a  very  practical  interest 
in  convicting  him.  If  she  could  accomplish  her  pur- 
pose there  would  be  no  opposition  in  her  contest  except 
from  the  Public  Bath  Institute,  with  which  she  might 
reasonably  hope  for  a  compromise  whereby  she  would 
be  able  to  lay  her  hands,  untrammeled,  upon  much  of 

117 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

the  coveted  wealth.  "And  success  in  this  particular 
would  not  be  wholly  in  vain,"  the  Colonel  observed, 
"for  it  would  afford  another  illustration  of  the  futility 
of  hoarding  and  accumulating." 

Beckwith  did  not  relish  the  operations  of  Miss 
Hodgkin  and  would  have  chosen,  if  he  could,  a  differ- 
ent Nemesis.  But  his  own  immediate  concerns  were 
uppermost  in  his  mind.  While  pondering  over  his  case 
and  the  means  of  raising  funds  he  was  interrupted. 
Again  he  was  led  down  the  steps,  not  to  the  cage,  but 
to  the  ground  floor  of  the  jail.  Waiting  to  see  him 
was  the  leader  of  his  band  of  Italians.  He  had  come 
to  offer  help:  his  followers  had  raised  seven  hun- 
dred dollars  which  they  tendered  as  a  testimonial. 

Beckwith's  friends  had  all  deserted  him,  and  this 
timely  aid  was  more  than  grateful.  He  realized  that 
human  nature  is  too  weak  to  admit  of  a  lawyer's  con- 
ducting with  full  enthusiasm  a  case  in  which  he  is 
wholly  uncompensated.  Here  was  his  opportunity. 
He  sent  the  money  to  his  counsel,  urging  him  to  accept 
it  as  a  fee,  insisting  that  he  would  add  to  it  as  he 
might  be  able  in  after  years,  and  avowing  also  the 
debt  he  had  assumed  to  the  profession. 

Every  few  days  thereafter  the  lawyers  were  closeted. 

118 


SUN     AND     SHADOW 

These  interviews  were  boons  to  Beckwith,  for  they 
relieved  the  stagnation  of  jail  life.  The  visits  of  the 
family  were  under  such  restrictions  as  to  be  of  no 
great  solace.  Occasionally  some  member  of  the  bar, 
fallen  heir  to  one  of  his  lawsuits,  would  make  some 
inquiry ;  but  callers  were  rare.  He  was,  however,  busy 
mapping  out  his  defense.  At  times  he  would  look 
back  to  his  former  plans  that  had  seemed  to  be  founded 
upon  a  rock.  How  they  had  failed!  And  how  they 
had  dwindled  in  importance !  More  often  he  was  tor- 
tured by  a  feverish  desire  to  provide  for  those  at 
home  in  case  anything  should  happen  to  him. 

He  was  carrying  a  ten-thousand-dollar  policy  in 
the  Permanent  Life  Assurance  Company  and  succeeded 
in  raising  enough  for  a  premium  payment.  George, 
who  went  to  the  company's  office  with  the  money, 
returned  with  word  that  the  premium  had  just  been 
paid  by  someone  who  wanted  his  name  withheld.  Who 
could  this  be?  Beckwith  often  tried  to  answer  the 
question.  It  was  the  Italians  ! — or  the  Colonel ! 

The  raising  of  funds  was  a  source  of  constant  worry 
to  Alice.  She  diligently  and  persistently  set  about 
collecting  a  number  of  accounts  on  the  office  books 
which  both  the  Colonel  and  George  had  failed  to  har- 

119 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

vest.  In  this  gleaning  she  was  from  time  to  time 
successful,  but  still  more  money  was  needed.  She 
had  a  long  conference  with  the  mother,  and  the  ney.t 
morning  appeared  in  the  Colonel's  office. 

"I  have  some  more  for  you — quite  a  lot,"  she  said, 
as  she  laid  on  the  table  a  small  pile  of  paper  currency. 

The  lawyer  straightened  out  the  bills  and  passed 
his  hand  over  them. 

"This  came  from  the  bank,"  he  observed.  "You 
threw  away  the  bank  wrapper,  but  you  forgot  about 
the  pin-hole!  How  did  it  happen?  You  needn't 
answer — this  is  the  tailings  of  your  father's  estate!" 

He  put  the  money  in  a  large  envelope  and 
placed  it  in  Alice's  hand. 

"We  can't  use  it,  Mrs.  Miller.  Put  it  back  in  the 
bank,  and  do  it  right  off  before  you're  tempted  to 
spend  it.  You  need  it  worse  than  we  do — you  must 
keep  something  in  reserve,  for  the  siege  may  last  a 
long  time.  Your  husband  will  appreciate  this  as  I 
do,  but — you  want  me  to  keep  it  a  secret !  Afraid  it'll 
worry  him!  Well,  just  as  you  say!" 

Alice  was  nearing  the  end  of  the  road.  After 
turning  matters  over  in  her  mind  she  begged  Beck- 
with's  consent  to  a  sale  of  the  homestead;  but  he 

120 


SUN     AND     SHADOW 

would  hardly  listen,  and  in  a  spirit  of  sacrifice  gave 
it  an  emphatic  veto.  Undaunted  and  with  renewed 
determination  she  went  back  to  the  task  of  collecting 
the  office  accounts,  and,  gathering  a  little  here  and  a 
little  there,  kept  alive  her  hope. 


121 


CHAPTER  XIII 
TEMPTATION 

The    great   prayer   of   all   the   ages   is,   Lead   IM    not    into 
temptation.  — Maj.  Bussell. 

* 

TV  TOW  and  then  some  small  incident  varied  the 
routine  of  Beckwith's  life  in  the  jail.  Reporters 
and  others  tried  to  talk  with  him,  but  he  was  firmly, 
good-naturedly  reticent.  Often  other  prisoners — 
sometimes  detectives  in  the  guise  of  prisoners — strove 
to  draw  him  into  conversation ;  but  to  no  purpose.  He 
was  dumb. 

One  day  the  turnkey  stealthily  unlocked  the  cell- 
door  and  officiously  led  the  way  down  the  steps  again 
and  across  the  yard.  When  they  reached  the  Jailer's 
private  office  the  official  stepped  to  one  side  and  waved 
his  hand  toward  the  door,  which  had  stood  open,  but 
which  was  closed  and  locked  immediately  after  Beck- 
with  had  entered. 

"Are  they  planning  an  escape?"  Beckwith  asked 
himself.  "The  danger  of  detection  is  great,  and  flight 


TEMPTATION 

would  be  an  awkward  admission  of  guilt;  sufficient, 
with  the  other  evidence,  to  convict  if  I  should  be 
recaptured.  Why  should  they  take  such  a  risk  on 
my  account  ?  Politics  ?  No !  It  would  hardly  extend 
that  far!"  He  looked  about  him.  The  private  office 
was  as  impregnable  as  his  cell,  for  the  only  opening 
was  through  the  heavily  barred  window  and  the  door 
by  which  he  had  been  admitted. 

Fears  arose  in  his  mind  that  he  was  about  to  be 
trapped  into  some  compromising  situation — that  he 
was  to  be  the  victim  of  some  sharp  detective  trick; 
for  he  knew  that  the  State,  as  well  as  Miss  Hodgkin, 
was  bent  on  his  destruction.  He  was  on  guard. 

Watching  the  entrance,  he  listened  intently. 

A  hammering  noise  penetrated  to  the  room,  repeated 
twice,  as  if  the  turnkey  were  striking  his  big  key 
against  the  iron  bars. 

Immediately  the  door  of  the  private  office  was  un- 
locked and  a  swarthy,  tall,  broad-shouldered  man 
appeared,  well  dressed  and  of  gentlemanly  bearing. 
Grasping  Beckwith  warmly  by  the  hand,  he  looked 
into  his  face. 

"Beck,"  he  said,  "I'm  your  friend — I  say,  I'm 
your  friend,  and  I'll  prove  what  I  tell  you.  You  need 
help,  I  guess." 

123 


The  prisoner  made  no  reply  by  word  or  look. 

The  stranger  paused  and  then  continued: 

"You  don't  know  me.  I'm  a  man  of  standing,  or 
I  couldn't  see  you  here.  One  of  your  friends  has 
given  me  a  note.  I  haven't  read  it — know  nothing 
about  it.  All  I  do  is  to  deliver  it;  you  read  it  later. 
Here  it  is.  I'm  glad  to  have  seen  you !  Good  day !" 

The  man  placed  in  Beckwith's  reluctant  hand  a 
small  sealed  envelope,  pulled  the  end  of  his  mustache 
around  into  his  mouth,  in  unmistakable  imitation  of 
the  leader  of  the  Italians,  and  vanished. 

Soon  the  lawyer  was  back  again  in  his  cell. 

The  turnkey  locked  in  his  prisoner  and  left  him  to 
reflect  upon  the  power  of  a  common  jailer. 

Not  long  afterward  an  attendant  seated  himself  in 
front  of  the  cell-door. 

This  was  uncommon. 

Was  the  man  there  to  watch  him  when  he  read  the 
note?  Or  to  be  conveniently  at  hand  to  discuss  the 
subject  matter? 

Beckwith  threw  himself  upon  his  cot  and  slept,  now 
and  then  awakened  by  the  hardness  of  his  bed,  and 
again  by  thoughts  of  his  wife,  his  mother  and  his 
boy.  He  could  be  of  no  assistance  to  them  and  tried 
not  to  worry  about  them;  but  the  heart  is  master  in 


TEMPTATION 

the  vacant  stillness  of  night.  There  was  very  little 
left  in  life  for  him.  He  could  not  study  over  his  law- 
suits !  Nor  over  the  improvement  and  repair  of  his 
home!  He  had  nothing  left  but  his  single  case  and 
his  desolate  family:  from  one  he  was  isolated,  and 
from  the  other  exiled. 

But  he  had  escaped  those  refined  cruelties  known  as 
"the  third  degree,"  practiced  on  others  in  his  situation, 
for  the  police  were  aware  that  he  was  too  well  posted 
to  submit  to  them  or  to  be  influenced  by  them.  Not 
everyone  can  stand  the  strain  for  forty-eight  sleepless 
hours  of  constant  questioning  on  one  subject  by  crafty 
men,  operating  in  relays — men  trained  in  the  art  of 
breaking  down  the  will  by  inspiring  hollow  hopes,  by 
every  form  of  lying  and  deceit  and  by  the  myriad 
ways  in  which  power  oppresses  the  weak.  Nor  can 
many  endure  protracted  thirst,  with  savage  language, 
brutal  threats  and  heartless  beatings.  Human  nature 
is  too  frail.  It  confesses,  whether  or  not  there  is  any- 
thing to  confess !  Beckwith  was  receiving  an  unprom- 
ised  reward  for  his  service  in  the  criminal  courts — he 
was  spared  these  tortures. 

It  was  dawn.     The  attendant  had  left  his  post. 
Drawing  close  to  the  door  of  the  cell,  Beckwith 

125 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

could  see  by  the  dim  light  that  the  mysterious  envelope 
was  unaddressed. 

He  opened  it. 

Printed  on  a  card  with  a  pen  were  two  names: 


OTTO  BEIFORD 
JAMES  B.  MCCLENNAHAN 


Later  in  the  morning  the  Colonel  came  to  the  cage 
again.  Beckwith  gave  him  the  card  without  comment. 

"Jury-bribing!"  the  older  lawyer  exclaimed,  as  he 
gazed  intently  at  the  card. 

This  was  not  the  veteran's  first  acquaintance  with 
such  tactics.  The  methods  of  those  who  employ  them 
were  not  unfamiliar  to  him.  At  the  inception  of  the 
case  he  had  known  that  it  was  possible  to  circumvent 
the  law  with  impunity.  One  avenue  was  open  that 
was  all-sufficient:  a  former  court  employe  of  temer- 
ity so  great,  of  a  nature  so  cunning  and  of  a  charac- 
ter so  shifty  that  he  would  successfully  corrupt  a 
jury.  There  would  be  little  risk.  If  the  man  were 
employed  merely  to  investigate  the  jurors  he  would 
take  it  upon  himself  to  "produce  results,"  as  the  prac- 
tical phrase  ran  in  the  claim  departments  of  the  great 
public  utility  corporations.  Nor  were  such  services 

126 


TEMPTATION 

a  very  expensive  commodity,  for  the  price  of  a  pur- 
chasable juror  was  little  more  than  thirty  pieces  of 
silver. 

The  Colonel  dearly  loved  success,  but  he  did  not 
worship  it  blindly,  and  such  aid  had  offered  no  tempta- 
tion. He  felt  deeply  on  this  question.  As  a  mem- 
ber of  the  bar  he  was  a  sworn  officer  of  the  court,  and 
the  pollution  of  the  fountain  of  justice  at  its  source 
was  treason. 

The  card  incident,  however,  presented  a  somewhat 
different  aspect.  Here,  apparently,  was  a  chance  to 
secure  friendly  jurors  through  influences  to  which  he 
was  a  stranger.  But  was  his  client  a  stranger  to  them  ? 
The  temptation  could  not  be  greater !  Still  he  had  no 
proof  that  Beckwith  was  culpable,  and  would,  there- 
fore, give  him  the  benefit  of  every  doubt. 

"Assuming,  then,  that  Beck  is  not  mixed  up  in  this, 
let  us  see  where  we  are,"  he  soliloquized.  "My  client's 
life  is  at  stake!  The  infliction  of  the  death  penalty 
is  indefensible,  and  the  inclination  is  universal  to  meet 
injustice  with  injustice!  And  public  wrong  with  pub- 
lic wrong!  What  view  will  he  take?  He  is  under  a 
great  strain.  And  whatever  may  be  his  attitude  to- 
ward the  present  problem,  can  argument  change  it? 
Generally  the  will  is  subdued,  if  not  subjugated,  by 

127 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

imprisonment,  with  its  separation  from  the  family, 
its  weakening  diet,  lack  of  exercise,  poor  air,  its  loss 
of  companionship  and  benumbing  monotony.  But  is 
it  so  with  him?  Of  one  thing  I  am  satisfied:  his 
resolution,  whatever  it  proves  to  be,  may  be  shaken 
— once,  perhaps — by  a  stronger  personality  in  a 
superior  relation.  But  as  soon  as  he  becomes  aware 
of  it  he  will  steel  himself,  and  the  lapse  will  never  be 
possible  again.  On  the  other  hand,  if  he  should 
spurn  the  advantage  offered  him,  is  it  certain  that  his 
will  is  free  under  such  heavy  stress?  If  I  should 
urge  him  to  throw  away  this  opportunity,  I  can't 
know  that  his  mind  has  not  become  so  ductile  as  to 
give  consent  from  the  mere  force  of  my  persuasion! 
In  such  a  complication  I  may  have  a  duty  to  the 
public  paramount  to  my  client's  interest!  Have  I  a 
right  to  set  up  my  own  ethical  sense  against  his? 
And  if  my  duty  is  not  clear,  should  the  fact  that 
a  human  life  is  in  peril  determine  the  course  to  be 
pursued?" 

It  was  an  involved  and  troublesome  situation,  and 
the  lawyer  made  up  his  mind  to  follow  the  Napoleonic 
precept — to  sleep  on  it  over  night.  But  he  did  not 
go  back  to  the  Tombs  until  the  detective  agency,  ad- 

128 


TEMPTATION 

monished  to  use  great  caution,  had  reported  upon  the 
prospective  jurors. 

"The  report  sheds  no  light,"  he  observed,  as  he 
placed  his  hand  on  his  client's  shoulder.  "We  will 
treat  it  as  a  case  of  bribed  jurors.  Now  what  are  we 
to  do?  You  have  thought  over  it  and  slept  over  it — 
what  do  you  say?" 

Beckwith  fenced: 

"I  don't  see  that  it  is  necessary  to  do  anything." 

The  Colonel  scrutinized  his  client. 

"But  we  must  know  now  what  we  will  do  later,"  he 
objected. 

"Let  it  go  till  the  trial,"  rejoined  Beckwith,  im- 
patiently. 

"No,  Beck,  it  is  too  serious!  My  idea  is  to  reject 
the  jurors,  although  I  don't  suppose  both  will  turn 
up.  And " 

"But  /  pay  the  bill." 

The  Colonel  assumed  a  bantering  tone : 

"You  don't  think  your  life  is  in  danger,  anyway." 

"But    you    seem    to ;    and    the    penitentiary " 

Beckwith  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I'm  in  a  bad  fix,"  interrupted  the  Colonel,  run- 
ning his  fingers  together  and  pressing  them  tightly 

129 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

against  his  chest.  "I'm  in  a  bad  fix!  I've  never  yet 
had  the  help  of  a  fake  juror.  To  accept  one  is  quite 
as  bad  as  to  fix  one.  It  goes  against  the  grain !  You 
know!  It  isn't  necessary  to  argue  with  you  on  this 
question.  I  wish  I  had  known  at  the  start  that  it 
would  arise!" 

The  suggestion  struck  home.  While  the  Colonel 
would  not  throw  up  the  case  if  such  a  juror  were 
accepted,  his  interest  would  lose  its  edge.  But  if  all 
went  well  and  the  juror  was  one  of  the  twelve,  and 
should  he  do  what  seemed  to  be  promised,  poor  service 
from  his  counsel  would  matter  little — in  the  first  trial. 
Suppose,  however,  there  should  be  a  slip !  And  if  left 
to  follow  his  own  conscience  the  Colonel  would  be  a 
colossus  in  the  courtroom! 

Presently  Beckwith  shook  his  head  emphatically. 
No,  there  was  too  much  at  stake!  And  a  prisoner's 
cry  is  "Help!" 

"No,  Colonel,  you  ought  not  to  ask  such  a  sacrifice 
— you  might  as  well  be  in  league  with  the  District 
Attorney !" 

"Rather  than  with  the  devil!  I'm  no  saint — in 
private  affairs — but  a  fundamental  public  question 
like  this  staggers  me.  If  our  country  called  you  to 
arms  you'd  risk  your  life  gladly.  You  take  no  greater 

130 


TEMPTATION 

risk  here,  and  your  country  is  calling,  Beck,  just  as 
loudly.  I  can  see  the  thing  as  it  is !  I  wish  I  were  in 
your  place!" 

The  Colonel  paced  the  floor,  violently  beating  one 
hand  against  the  other. 

"It  is  a  question  of  whose  ox  is  gored,"  Beckwith 
pleaded.  "You're  not  in  my  place,  and  God  knows 
I  don't  want  you  to  be.  I  can't  express  my  gratitude 
for  all  you  have  done  for  me,  but  don't  ask  the  im- 
possible !" 

"The  shoe  is  on  the  other  foot.  You  ask  the  im- 
possible. Lawyers  must  respect  the  law!  If  I  could 
give  up  the  case " 

"Don't  mention  such  a  thought,  by  all  that  is 
human,"  exclaimed  Beckwith,  rising  and  clutching  his 
counsel's  arm.  "My  wife !  And  mother !  And  boy !" 

The  Colonel  looked  out  through  the  grated  door. 
A  slight  pallor  of  weakening  purpose  crossed  his 
cheek.  A  moment  later  he  drew  the  white  hand  of  the 
prisoner  into  both  of  his  and  asked  softly : 

"Shall  we  submit  the  question  to  them?" 

BeckAvith  flinched. 

"Certainly  not.  They  have  trouble  enough,"  he 
protested. 

"You  would  not  have  a  secret  from  them  now? 

131 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

Come,  I  don't  want  to  press  a  matter  so  grave,  and,  as 
far  as  we  can  do  so,  I  must  be  relieved  from  the 
responsibility  of  deciding.  You  know  my  views. 
Think  it  over  again  and  decide  it;  but,  remember,  it 
must  be  your  decision — not  mine !" 

The  Colonel  was  bending  under  the  load.  He  now 
had  a  new  subject  for  reflection.  Assuming  that  his 
client  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  bribery,  was  guilt 
a  factor  in  his  manifest  inclination  to  accept  the 
jurors?  He  did  not  feel  intrenched  in  his  position  as 
he  looked  back  upon  what  he  had  done;  but,  seeking 
for  a  reason  to  fully  justify  himself,  his  mind  care- 
lessly whispered  to  his  conscience:  "If  guilty,  he 
ought  to  be  made  to  take  all  the  risks,  for  it  was  a 
murder,  if  murder  it  was,  cold-blooded  and  deliberate, 
with  an  ample  locus  pcenitentm" 

As  the  time  set  for  the  trial  approached,  Beckwith 
consulted  his  counsel  more  frequently,  but  never  on 
the  matter  of  the  bribed  jurors.  A  little  look  of 
triumph,  suggesting  a  sense  of  security,  coupled  with 
a  setting  of  the  jaws,  met  the  Colonel  whenever  men- 
tion was  made  of  the  jury.  It  admonished  the  veteran 
that  his  client  was  at  least  no  better  than  average 

132 


TEMPTATION 

mankind  in  a  supreme  test ;  but  he  was  glad  to  be  rid 
of  an  unpleasant  responsibility.  The  interviews  were 
taken  up  with  a  consideration  of  numerous  memo- 
randa written  by  the  prisoner  upon  separate  sheets, 
ready  to  be  classified,  according  to  his  custom.  It 
would  have  worried  Beckwith  had  he  known  that  these 
precious  sheets  lay  heaped  in  confusion  on  his  coun- 
sel's desk,  wholly  neglected.  But  the  Colonel  appre- 
ciated that  they  were  carefully  thought  out  by  one 
who  had  an  angle  of  vision  different  from  his  own,  and 
he  mentally  noted  each  one  of  them.  Those  of  value 
he  carefully  stored  in  his  memory  in  their  proper 
places.  And  they  were  accurately  indexed  so  that  he 
could  instantaneously  use  them  without  the  distrac- 
tion of  consulting  artificial  aids. 

The  defense  was  not  informed  as  to  the  exact  testi- 
mony to  be  introduced  by  the  State.  There  had  been 
the  usual  preliminary  examination  before  a  magis- 
trate, but  the  prosecution  had  brought  out  only  such 
evidence  as  was  absolutely  necessary  to  prevent  the 
prisoner's  discharge — a  safe  course,  for  the  magis- 
trate religiously  bound  over  every  prisoner  whom  the 
District  Attorney  earnestly  prosecuted.  In  preparing 
his  defense  Beckwith  found  imprisonment  an  embar- 
rassing drawback,  and  he  fretted  daily  over  the  con- 

133 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

trast  between  his  hampered  helpers  and  the  immense 
equipment  of  the  State. 

The  two  lawyers  held  many  consultations  in  trying 
to  determine  in  advance  whether  Beckwith  should  tes- 
tify at  the  trial.  They  knew  the  dangers  of  the  wit- 
ness-stand, but  they  also  feared  the  risk  of  a  prisoner's 
silence,  and  they  arrived  at  no  final  conclusion  beyond 
a  si  atement  of  Beckwith's : 

"If  they  don't  learn  of  the  den  I'll  take  all  the  re- 
sponsibility of  keeping  off  the  stand." 


134 


CHAPTER  XIV 
PREPARATION 

Under  the  velvet  paw  of  the  judge  one  can  feel  the  nails  of 
the  executioner.  — Victor  Hugo. 

All  ages  have  abounded  in  lawyers  and  judges;  there  is  no 
churchyard  that  does  not  contain  their  forgotten  dust.  But 
the  jurist  is  rare.  — Charles  Sumner. 

.  * 

TDECKWITH  had  another  burden,  for  it  was  re- 
J— "  ported  that  Miss  Hodgkin  had  employed  Eugene 
Carpenter  to  assist  the  State.  George  carried  the  news 
to  Colonel  Sickles. 

"You  are  a  lawyer,  young  man  ?"  the  Colonel  asked. 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  the  emphatic  reply. 

A  puff  of  smoke  cleared  away,  and  the  Colonel, 
looking  out  of  the  window  at  the  passing  crowd, 
spoke : 

"The  practice  of  the  law  is  a  calling  of  great  possi- 
bilities for  development  and  accomplishment,  for  good 
or  evil.  Its  path  is  choked  with  temptations,  and  its 
disciples  rise  high  or  sink  low.  In  time  it  becomes  a 
profession,  a  business  or  a  game.  The  profession,  en- 

135 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

nobling,  inspiring,  protecting,  has  made  it  possible  to 
write  grand  pages  of  history.  The  business  begins 
and  ends  with  a  livelihood.  The  game,  oblique,  in- 
sidious, undermining,  is  one  of  the  most  disintegrating 
of  all  the  baneful  inventions  of  the  brain.  Not  wholly 
my  words,  but  remember  them!" 

Eugene  Carpenter  had  achieved  a  great  local  repu- 
tation. He  combined  with  other  talents  singular 
gifts  of  oratory.  Six  feet  in  height  and  of  faultless 
proportions;  graceful  in  every  movement;  careful  in 
speech,  even  in  unimportant  conversation ;  imaginative 
and  dramatic:  he  was  a  commanding  figure  in  a  for- 
ensic battle.  Born  among  the  petted,  his  full  develop- 
ment had  been  retarded  by  the  influence  of  elegant 
surroundings  and  limited  by  the  infirmities  of  his  en- 
vironment. With  other  foibles,  he  was  proud  of  his 
shapely  hands,  strangers  by  heritage  and  habit  to 
manual  labor,  and  he  was  unduly  careful  of  his  over- 
manicured  finger-nails — a  combination  of  vanity  and 
indulgence  which  gave  birth  to  an  affectation  in  many 
of  his  gestures  such  as  jeweled  fingers  tend  to  produce, 
but  too  slight  to  be  discerned  except  by  a  critical  eye. 
To  him  the  practice  of  the  law  was  a  game.  His  talents 
had  become  a  commodity  available  to  all  purchasers. 

136 


PREPARATION 

As  his  ability  became  recognized,  he  represented  with 
increasing  frequency  rich  lawbreakers  whose  misdeeds 
were  glossed  by  corporate  forms  and  who  required 
skill,  but  not  inquisitiveness.  His  countenance  had 
fallen  under  the  inevitable  influence  of  habitual 
thought,  and  had  just  begun  to  take  on  a  suggestion 
that  its  owner  was  sly,  but  as  yet  this  defect  eluded  the 
ordinary  observer.  As  an  advocate  he  had  surpassing 
weight  with  juries,  but  in  the  tedious  work  of  careful 
preparation  he  was  ineffective,  for  he  disliked  details 
and  customarily  employed  others  to  look  after  them. 
The  qualities  which  he  lacked  were,  however,  possessed 
by  the  District  Attorney,  and  Colonel  Sickles  well 
knew  he  would  have  a  hard  fight  against  this  union  of 
complementary  talents. 

Everything  was  now  rapidly  moving  forward.  The 
State  had  gathered  in  its  witnesses.  The  defense  had 
made  the  best  preparation  possible  under  all  the  cir- 
cumstances, and  the  accused — friendless,  imprisoned 
and  ill  cared-for,  impoverished  in  health  and  property 
and  name,  with  his  life  wagered  on  the  result — was 
awaiting  the  unequal  contest. 

Matters  had  been  growing  worse  at  home.  With 
the  first  note  from  the  jail  the  suspense  of  the  pre- 
137 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

ceding  weeks  had  culminated.  While  Alice  maintained 
her  self-possession,  it  was  with  a  mighty  effort.  Beck- 
with's  mother  was  nerved  by  a  strong  sense  of  duty, 
but  her  countenance  reflected  the  dread  which  never 
left  her.  Apart  from  other  cares,  a  sentence  in  the 
letter  from  the  jail  troubled  her: 

"Even  if  I  were  guilty,  there  would  not  be  the  least 
danger  of  their  inflicting  the  death  penalty  on  me." 

Her  son  meant  that  he  would  take  his  life  rather 
than  be  hanged ! 

Little  of  importance  took  place  to  relieve  the  ten- 
sion of  the  household.  Colonel  Sickles  had  urged  the 
necessity  of  jealously  complying  with  their  protec- 
tor's injunction  not  to  talk  with  anyone  about  the 
subject  uppermost  in  their  minds.  But  this  was 
hardly  necessary,  for  above  everything  they  feared 
that  information  might  leak  out  concerning  the  den 
and  the  experiments  that  Beckwith  had  been  conduct- 
ing. When  he  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  spending 
his  Sundays  there  Alice  had  prophesied  that  the  den 
would  be  their  undoing.  Now  she  was  ever  fearful  lest 
her  ironical  prediction  should  be  fulfilled. 

Visitors  were  not  numerous.  George  was  the  only 
unfaltering  friend.  Aside  from  irregular  calls,  he 
came  every  Friday  and  took  to  the  jail  a  large  bas- 

138 


PREPARATION 

ket  of  laundry,  for  even  in  prison  Beckwith  was  an 
unwavering  apostle  of  clean  linen.  Besides  this  he 
had  another  source  of  comfort:  the  jail  discipline  did 
not  exclude  literature,  and  library  books  were  so  much 
in  evidence  about  his  cell  that  the  guards  were  no 
longer  curious  as  to  their  titles.  Thus  he  had  a  few 
companions  not  subject  to  scrutiny. 

Constant  public  comment  upon  his  dual  relation  as 
director  of  the  Bath  Institute  and  as  trustee  under  the 
Hodgkin  will  induced  Beckwith  to  relinquish  his  direc- 
torship, and  Alice  with  a  parting  pang  sent  in  her 
resignation  as  a  member  of  the  women's  board.  Her 
heartache  was  but  little  mollified  by  a  tender  and 
sympathetic  acceptance  with  genuine  regret;  and  she 
tore  up  the  note  to  give  expression  to  her  feelings. 

"I  will  not  add  to  his  suffering,"  she  said,  "by 
grieving  over  the  Institute  and  the  riding  club ;  but  I 
could  endure  it  all  so  much  more  bravely  if  I  could 
only  hear  that  hearty  laugh  once  more." 

Aside  from  the  visits  to  the  jail,  some  calls  at  the 
Colonel's  office  and  a  few  small  errands,  the  family 
remained  at  home.  Their  visits  to  Beckwith  were 
more  frequent,  but  less  satisfactory,  for  they  felt 
as  time  passed  that  his  hopes  were  not  so  high,  and 
he  became  more  and  more  abstracted  as  the  day 

139 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

of  the  trial  drew  near.     This  experience  was  worm- 
wood, but  it  was  borne  without  a  murmur. 

"We  must  suffer  for  the  common  good,"  was  the 
language  of  the  letter  from  the  jail.  "We  must 
suffer  for  the  common  good,"  the  mother  repeated; 
and  these  words  Alice  constantly  clinched.  But  such 
philosophy  and  trust  did  not  reach  to  Alexander.  For 
days  after  his  father's  arrest  he  sobbed  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  time.  As  the  dinner-hour  approached  he 
would  seat  himself  by  one  of  the  front  windows, 
longing  and  watching.  Evening  after  evening,  when 
told  his  father  would  not  be  home,  the  boy  refused  to 
be  consoled,  and  he  never  became  reconciled  to  the 
separation. 

Miss  Hodgkin  was  not  idle.  Malice  completely  pos- 
sessed her.  The  ashes  of  her  uncle  rested  in  Green- 
wood Cemetery,  but  his  grave  was  uncared-for,  un- 
marked and  unthought-of  in  the  fever  of  revenge. 
In  the  District  Attorney's  office,  on  the  streets,  with 
her  counsel,  under  all  circumstances  she  had  one  idea 
— to  enlist  public  sympathy  and  stir  up  public  pas- 
sion. In  this  she  succeeded.  She  always  gave  a  will- 
ing audience  to  the  reporters.  Saying  little,  she 
managed  to  fill  them  with  a  conviction  of  the  great 

140 


PREPARATION 

wrong  that  had  been  done  her,  and  these  interviews 
added  fire  to  the  stories  in  the  newspapers. 

The  machinery  of  the  State,  oiled  and  polished, 
was  now  in  readiness  for  its  work. 

The  prosecutor  was  busy  pondering  over  the  signed 
statements  of  the  witnesses.  He  had  talked  with  all 
of  them  and  knew  what  they  would  say.  His  was  one 
purpose — success.  So  long  had  he  been  among  crim- 
inals that  in  his  eyes  everyone  charged  with  crime 
was  guilty.  Against  him  under  the  law  were  judge 
and  jury  and  counsel.  They  must  watch  for  inno- 
cence— his  business  was  to  convict.  The  eyes  of  the 
public  were  upon  him.  A  whole  city  was  ready  to 
praise  if  he  triumphed — mortification  was  his  lot  if 
he  failed.  And  more  than  this,  success  was  essential 
to  his  political  aspirations. 

In  discharging  the  duties  of  his  office  he  had  been 
brought  into  close  and  confidential  relations  with  the 
judges.  In  nearly  every  case  of  importance  he  had 
contrived  to  select  the  doomsman  before  whom  the 
prisoner  had  been  tried.  So  it  happened  that  the 
judge  who  was  to  have  charge  of  Beckwith's  fate  had 
been  chosen  by  the  State.  This  man  was  of  long 
experience  on  the  bench.  He  was  old.  The  human 

141 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

fires,  which  had  never  burned  in  him,  but  rather 
smoldered,  had  now  gone  out.  Much  learning  and 
incessant  study  had  contracted  his  heart.  He  was  a 
mathematical  judge.  He  made  few  mistakes,  for  the 
Court  of  Appeals  uniformly  affirmed  his  judgments. 
Therefore,  he  was  a  great  judge.  But  he  was  a  little 
jurist.  And  day  by  day  he  was  dealing  with  flesh  and 
blood  and  not  with  mathematical  tables. 

He  was  not  a  favorite  with  prisoners,  who  are 
ever  hoping  for  a  sympathetic  judge — often  a  friend 
in  need ;  the  more  so  as,  no  matter  how  lenient  or  even 
culpable  the  man  on  the  bench  may  be  in  the  conduct 
of  a  trial,  the  State  has  no  redress.  If  the  umpire 
who  was  to  preside  over  this  contest  had  any  sym- 
pathy it  was  for  the  community.  His  was  the  type  of 
judge  who  can  sentence  a  fellow-man  to  death  in  the 
impassive  and  impersonal  manner  which  fits  the  de- 
cision of  an  abstract  point  of  law.  The  District 
Attorney,  of  the  same  political  faith,  knew  when  he 
placed  the  case  upon  the  calendar  of  this  judge  that 
he  was  solicitous  about  a  renomination,  for  he  had 
saved  nothing  during  his  long  judicial  career  and  had 
a  tailor-made  family  to  support.  The  State  would 
request  no  favors,  but  it  was  certain  none  would  be 
granted  the  defense.  Yet  under  the  ermine  is  always 

142 


PREPARATION 

the  man,  and  if  the  ermined  man  should  lean  to  the 
side  of  the  prosecutor,  it  would  be  remembered  at  the 
party  convention. 

Justice  is  blind,   but  her  instruments   are  human 
beings  who  not  only  see,  but  feel. 


143 


CHAPTER  XV 

GENERAL  SESSIONS 

Perhaps  the  most  important  of  the  protections  to  personal 
liberty  consists  in  the  mode  of  trial  which  is  secured  to  every 
person  accused  of  crime.  — Cooley. 

* 

T?  ROM  the  first  Alice  had  felt  that  the  trial  would 
seal  her  husband's  doom.  As  time  passed  the 
feeling  became  stronger,  and  it  haunted  her  the  more 
because  her  fear  was  a  secret  that  was  ever  fluttering 
in  its  desire  to  be  released.  The  daily  letter,  intended 
to  inspire  confidence,  cheered  her;  and  when  she  saw 
Beckwith  he  spoke  the  words  of  hope;  but  she  could 
not  rid  her  own  soul  of  her  melancholy  forebodings. 
Nor  was  she  allowed  to  forget,  for  Alexander  was 
alive  with  questions. 

Thus  the  days  have  passed  and  the  climax  of  distress 
is  at  hand.  The  morning  newspaper  is  eagerly  de- 
voured, and  a  blessing  it  is,  though  it  lacerates  relent- 
lessly. 

Dismal  to  Alice  are  the  gray  streaks  of  dawn. 
Heartbroken  and  sleepless,  she  watches  at  the  window 

144 


GENERAL     SESSIONS 

the  glow  of  the  great  furnace  in  the  heavens.  Its 
radiant  energy  warms  myriads  of  other  lives,  but  hers 
it  chills.  The  moments  drag  with  leaden  foot,  and  at 
length  the  time  has  come  when  she  knows  her  husband 
is  to  be  summoned  before  inexorable  Justice. 

Beckwith,  securely  handcuffed  to  a  fellow-prisoner, 
placed  in  a  van  with  other  handcuffed  pairs,  was  driven 
to  the  Court  of  General  Sessions  of  the  Peace.  Closely 
guarded,  he  ascended  the  iron  steps  and  passed  into 
the  building.  Swinging  from  an  inner  doorway  he 
saw  the  familiar  black  sign  with  its  gilt  letters: 


GENERAL  SESSIONS 
PART  III 


He  was  led  into  the  poorly  lighted  courtroom.  The 
ceiling  was  divided  into  numerous  squares  resembling 
inverted  terraces,  in  the  angles  of  which  somber  shad- 
ows were  ever  lurking.  At  the  end  of  the  room  stood 
a  row  of  benches  filled  with  spectators,  and  a  crowd 
was  in  the  hallway  hoping  for  admission.  The  clerk, 
immediately  in  front  of  the  raised  platform  of  the 
Judge,  was  busily  clearing  up  his  desk  to  be  ready  for 
the  trial.  In  a  corner  was  located  the  iron  cage  in 

145 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

which  prisoners  were  kept  after  being  unmanacled. 
Into  it  Beckwith  was  thrust. 

Court  officers  were  hurrying  hither  and  thither,  and 
the  prosecutor,  engaged  with  Mr.  Carpenter  and  his 
regular  assistants,  was  reviewing  the  testimony  to  be 
introduced  upon  the  trial. 

Colonel  Sickles  was  checking  up  a  list  of  witnesses. 

Reporters  for  the  daily  press  were  sketching  pre- 
liminary sentences. 

A  slight  hush  announced  the  arrival  of  the  Judge, 
solemn  and  frigid.  Sitting  in  his  great  armchair,  he 
gazed  at  the  big  clock  until  the  hands  marked  ten. 

Court  was  formally  opened,  and  the  Judge  looked 
over  the  docket  before  him  and  raised  his  head: 

"The  People  versus  Miller — murder." 

All  eyes  now  sought  the  defendant. 

The  prisoner's  cage  was  unlocked,  and  Beckwith, 
closely  followed  by  officers,  moved  forward.  He  could 
be  seen  by  all.  So  long  a  stranger  to  the  sun,  he  was 
pale.  He  had  lost  weight,  but  stood  erect  and  firm. 
There  was  no  sign  of  expression  in  his  countenance. 
The  mask  he  had  schooled  himself  to  assume  in  the 
causes  of  others  he  carried  with  him  into  his  own. 
As  he  took  the  chair  reserved  for  him,  just  behind  his 
lawyer,  and  clasped  the  extended  hand,  the  Judge,  in 

146 


GENERAL     SESSIONS 

remembrance  of  other  days,  looked  down  and  gave  a 
slight  nod  of  recognition. 

Among  the  forces  of  the  State  sat  Miss  Hodgkin, 
in  deep  mourning,  wielding  a  handkerchief  with  a 
wide  border  of  black. 

"Beckwith  Miller  at  the  bar,"  called  the  clerk  in  a 
loud  tone  of  authority. 

The  prisoner  stood  up,  and  Colonel  Sickles  spoke 
almost  inaudibly  to  the  clerk. 

"Call  a  jury,"  commanded  the  Judge. 

Scores  of  talesmen  were  excused  for  various  causes, 
many  of  the  reasons  having  been  developed  by  a  force 
of  detectives  employed  by  the  State  to  investigate 
their  antecedents,  records  and  characteristics — an  ad- 
vantage not  open  to  Beckwith  for  lack  of  means. 

Eleven  were  at  last  accepted,  and  the  clerk  called 
another  name : 

"James  B.  McClennahan." 

Beckwith  moved  his  foot  to  the  Colonel's  in  secret 
signal. 

The  District  Attorney  examined  the  man  with  care, 
vainly  endeavoring  to  develop  a  cause  for  challenge 
or  some  attitude  of  mind  or  bias  adverse  to  the  State. 
He  advised  with  Mr.  Carpenter,  and  they  called  to 
their  aid  the  assistant  having  in  charge  the  investiga- 

147 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

tion  of  the  panel,  who  went  over  with  them  the  favor- 
able report  upon  the  juror,  at  the  same  time  insistently 
urging  that  the  man  be  accepted. 

"The  jury  is  satisfactory,  your  honor,"  the  prose- 
cutor announced. 

The  prisoner  and  his  counsel  now  consulted,  and  the 
attorneys  for  the  State  met  for  a  moment  in  the  back 
of  the  room. 

"I  don't  feel  at  ease  regarding  that  juror," 
whispered  the  District  Attorney.  "It  is  the  first  time 
in  years  that  I've  accepted  a  man  on  a  jury  against 
whom  I've  had  an  intuitive  prejudice.  But  my  assist- 
ant is  keen  and  seems  sanguine.  The  fellow  answers 
the  questions  well,  as  you  say,  but  I'm  doubtful." 

While  the  defense  was  contentedly  asking  the  juror 
some  harmless  questions,  the  District  Attorney  con- 
tinued to  study  him.  During  a  brief  recess  he  called 
his  colleague  to  one  side. 

"I  tell  you  I'm  afraid  of  that  man,"  he  said.  "You 
noted  how  strongly  my  assistant  urged  him  upon  us. 
How  do  you  feel  about  it?" 

"You  know  your  assistant  better  than  I,"  replied 
Mr.  Carpenter.  "It  struck  me  at  the  time  that  he  was 
officious — nothing  more.  I'm  afraid  of  the  juror, 
however." 

148 


GENERAL     SESSIONS 

The  prosecutor  scowled.  "My  conviction  grows 
stronger  every  minute,"  he  muttered.  "We  have  made 
a  botch  of  the  whole  case." 

So  felt  Beckwith!  Fate  had  placed  in  his  hands  a 
key  to  his  dungeon  by  the  aid  of  which  he  might  ulti- 
mately be  free !  Here,  then,  was  the  beginning  of  the 
end.  And  the  boasted  glory  of  trial  by  jury  was  dis- 
solving in  this  particular  case.  Underneath  the  mask 
the  sense  of  triumph  dimly  lighted  his  face,  while  a 
frown  of  resignation,  commingling  with  the  hope  of 
victory,  slightly  blanched  that  of  his  counsel. 

A  revolver  shot  rang  through  the  corridors  of 
the  building. 

A  crowd  of  men  and  women  burst  into  the  court- 
room. 

"I  said  I  would  kill  him !"  shrieked  a  woman  outside 
the  door.  There  was  a  scuffle,  and  as  this  ended  the 
crowd  surged  back  again,  taking  the  courtroom  spec- 
tators with  them. 

It  was  an  episode  in  a  protracted  legal  contest  with 
which  the  bar  was  familiar.  A  woman,  too  indus- 
triously pursued  by  an  attorney,  had  turned  in  a  mad 
fury  upon  her  persecutor.  The  excitement  drew  the 
lawyers  in  the  courtroom  together — all  but  Beckwith. 
The  shot  flashed  to  his  imagination  the  faces  of  his 

149 


THE    UPAS    TREE 

wife  and  mother.  He  recoiled  as  if  the  bullet  had 
struck  him.  Under  the  mask  the  expression  changed. 
The  mask  fell  off  when  the  Colonel  again  reached  his 
side.  Then  Beckwith  clutched  his  counsel  and  gave 
a  low  but  tense  command. 

Order  was  now  restored,  and  the  Colonel  rose. 

"We  challenge  the  juror  peremptorily,"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"The  fool!"  ejaculated  the  prosecutor  under  his 
breath. 

Concerning  the  excused  juror  the  reporters  could 
learn  nothing  that  would  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  the 
public.  It  was  surmised  that  the  man  was  suspected, 
and  general  interest  was  aroused,  but  the  actual  sig- 
nificance of  the  incident  remained  a  riddle. 

Another  juror  was  chosen  and  the  panel  was  com- 
pleted just  as  Saturday's  sun  was  sinking. 

The  morrow  was  a  sorry  Lord's  day  for  the 
prisoner.  After  a  visit  from  his  family  and  a  short 
conference  with  his  lawyer  he  seated  himself  in  his 
cell,  meditating  upon  the  pending  lottery  in  which  he 
had  so  much  invested.  He  was  aware  that  his  situation 
was  not  free  from  danger  to  his  liberty,  even  if  his 
life  were  not  in  jeopardy.  But  his  family  falling 
to  the  lot  of  poverty  and  want  was  a  picture  upon 

150 


GENERAL     SESSIONS 

the  wall  of  his  solicitude  which  no  philosophy  could 
efface.  His  vitality  was  bending  under  constant  trav- 
ail, but  his  face  and  manner  told  the  true  story: 
though  his  oaken  will  might  be  wrenched  and  the  fibers 
torn  and  twisted,  it  would  never  break. 

In  the  Miller  home  evidences  of  broken  purse-strings 
were  visible.  Alice  had  secretly  stowed  away  a  few 
pawn-tickets,  and  a  darned  stocking  was  peeping  out 
of  Alexander's  shoe. 

The  ghosts  of  fear  stalked  about  the  house  by 
night  and  by  day.  The  family  knew  that  an  acquittal 
would  mean  a  ready  grasp  of  the  hand  and  warm  con- 
gratulations;  but  they  knew,  also,  that  a  conviction 
might  rob  them  of  all  they  prized  in  life.  And  they 
marveled  that  so  much  should  depend  upon  the  chance 
of  a  verdict. 

On  the  convening  of  court  the  District  Attorney 
rose  to  make  his  opening  address  to  the  jury.  A 
murmur  spread  through  the  room  and  the  eyes  of  all 
turned  to  the  door. 

Beckwith  left  his  chair. 

His  wife,  mother  and  boy  entered. 

It  was  manifest  that  Alice  was  nerved  for  the  ordeal, 
but  as  she  greeted  her  husband  in  the  presence  of  those 

151 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

who  had  the  power  to  kill  him,  for  an  instant  she  lost 
self-control.  Alexander  clung  to  his  father,  crying 
loudly : 

"My  father!    My  father!" 

With  lips  pressed  firmly  together,  Alice  took  her 
seat.  Beckwith  kissed  Alexander  tenderly  and  passed 
him  on  to  the  grandmother. 

The  District  Attorney  proceeded.  He  laid  before 
the  jury,  in  language  chosen  to  arouse  their  preju- 
dices, most  of  the  story  of  the  State.  He  was  labor- 
iously accurate,  clinching  each  fact  securely  in  the 
minds  of  the  jurors  before  he  hammered  the  next,  and 
in  concluding  referred  to  the  popular  statue  of  Jus- 
tice, warning  the  men  before  him  to  place  a  fillet  over 
their  eyes,  after  the  symbol  of  the  statue,  and  to  shut 
out  from  sight  all  elements  of  the  case  which  might 
touch  their  sympathies,  at  the  same  time  conjuring 
them  to  remember  that  they  were  the  guardians  of  the 
law,  not  sentimental  friends  of  the  prisoner. 

The  force  of  the  address  had  been  broken  by  the 
arrival  of  the  family.  It  was,  however,  strong  and 
prudent,  although  devoid  of  dramatic  effect.  The 
District  Attorney  lacked  oratorical  instinct,  and  even 
had  he  possessed  every  other  qualification,  could  never 
have  become  an  orator,  for  one  essential  he  had  not 

152 


GENERAL     SESSIONS 

inherited — a  fitting  voice.  His  enunciation  was  harsh 
when  it  was  not  monotonous. 

A  slight  movement  of  chairs  and  an  air  of  expect- 
ancy swept  through  the  courtroom,  forerunning  the 
introduction  of  evidence.  Beckwith  for  an  instant 
caught  the  eye  of  his  wife  and  exchanged  a  secret 
thought : 

"They  have  no  knowledge  of  the  den!" 


153 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  CASE  OF  THE  STATE 

It  is  an  admirable  law  which  ordains  that  every  man  shall 
be  tried  by  his  peers;  for  when  life,  liberty  and  fortune  are 
in  question,  the  sentiments  which  a  difference  of  rank  and 
fortune  inspire  should  be  silent.  —  Beccaria. 


A  FTER  Mr.  Hodgkin's  death  had  been  duly 
proved,  the  trial  got  under  way  and  facts  rapidly 
took  the  form  of  evidence. 

Beckwith's  bank  account  for  his  individual  use  had 
been  nominal,  but  he  had  kept  another,  marked  "Spe- 
cial," in  which  over  $12,000  was  on  deposit  on  the 
day  of  his  client's  death.  The  checks  deposited  in  this 
account  had  all  been  payable  to  Emanuel  Hodgkin  and 
indorsed  in  his  name  by  the  accused. 

The  homestead  mortgage  had  been  long  overdue, 
nothing  but  the  interest  having  been  paid,  Beckwith 
having  been  invariably  in  arrears  and  habitually 
pressed  for  money. 

Mr.  Hodgkin's  intimate  relations  with  the  prisoner 
were  established;  his  heavy  build;  his  age,  sixty-two; 

154 


THE     CASE    OF    THE    STATE 

his  unintermittent  use  of  tobacco;  his  devotion  to 
the  bath. 

The  trial  halted,  and  the  District  Attorney  watched 
significantly  the  entrance  doorway  while  his  assistants 
joined  in  the  maneuver.  Beckwith  turned  a  furtive 
glance  in  the  same  direction. 

Self-possessed  but  modest,  Robert,  the  negro,  strode 
into  the  courtroom. 

He  showed  that  the  world  had  treated  him  kindly 
while  he  had  been  harbored  safe  from  any  influence 
of  the  prisoner.  As  he  seated  himself  his  eye  met 
Beckwith's.  Perceiving  the  change  that  had  taken 
place  in  his  former  patron,  his  lips  parted  for  a 
moment  with  irresolution. 

It  had  been  expected  that  tremendous  influence 
would  be  brought  to  bear  upon  Robert.  According 
to  report,  a  notorious  detective,  lured  by  Miss  Hodg- 
kin's  purse,  had  been  coaching  him;  moreover,  the 
oleaginous  chief  of  police  had  taken  him  under  his 
personal  charge.  Beckwith  had  been  fearful  that  the 
chief  would  play  havoc  by  subtle  suggestion  and  by 
cunning  and  persuasive  embellishment  of  the  facts. 
He  well  knew  that  by  frequent  repetition  a  story  can 
be  drilled  into  the  mind  so  that  a  witness  will  believe 
it  and  the  most  skillful  cross-examination  will  fail  to 

155 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

shake  it.  To  be  prepared  for  this  contingency  he 
had  reviewed  with  his  counsel,  again  and  again,  in 
every  detail,  the  events  of  the  fateful  afternoon. 

Beckwith  eagerly  devoured  each  word  of  the  ne- 
gro's evidence,  and  at  its  close  prisoner  and  counsel 
looked  at  each  other  in  keen  admiration,  for  the  wit- 
ness had  told  the  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth. 

The  attorneys  for  the  State  now  sprung  another 
sensation — the  theatrical  advent  of  one  of  the  Pitts- 
burgh chemists.  This  expert  minutely  described  his 
investigations.  He  and  his  colleague  had  scraped 
Robert's  boat  at  the  spot  where  the  evidence  showed 
Mr.  Hodgkin  had  been  sick  and  also  at  the  opposite 
end  of  the  boat;  and  they  had  secured  similar  sus- 
pected and  unsuspected  scrapings  from  the  floor  of 
Wattengurter's  bar-room.  Each  scraping  had  been 
divided  between  them,  and  they  had  pursued  their  in- 
vestigations separately.  Decoctions  of  the  suspected 
material  had  been  administered  to  one  set  of  frogs,  and 
a  recognized  digitalin  solution  to  another  set.  These 
frogs  had  all  died  quickly  with  like  symptoms  of  digi- 
talin poisoning.  On  the  other  hand,  decoctions  of  the 
unsuspected  scrapings  given  to  other  frogs  had  pro- 
duced no  effect. 

Various  experiments  were  recounted,  all  of  them 

156 


THE     CASE     OF     THE     STATE 

proving  the  presence  of  digitalin.  A  reliable  test  for 
nicotine,  on  the  other  hand,  repeated  several  times, 
had  failed  to  indicate  that  poison.  This  test  had  also 
consisted  in  administering  the  suspected  decoctions  to 
frogs.  With  nicotine,  it  was  shown,  the  animals  are 
seized  with  clonic  convulsions  and  other  characteristic 
symptoms,  all  of  which  had  been  wanting. 

These  and  other  tests,  together  with  the  symptoms 
described  by  Robert,  fixed  the  witness'  opinion  that  the 
deceased  had  died  from  the  effects  of  digitalin  poison- 
ing. He  was  forced  to  admit  that  if  the  poison  was 
administered  while  Mr.  Hodgkin  and  Beckwith  were  at 
lunch,  and  particularly  if  taken  at  the  hotel  under 
the  willow  tree,  death  had  ensued  in  less  time  than 
usual.  But  he  affirmed  that  habitual  users  of  tobacco 
succumb  readily  and  speedily  to  other  poisonous 
drugs,  as  they  do  to  any  stress  of  extreme  climate, 
protracted  labor  or  great  emotional  excitement.  The 
advanced  age  and  heavy  build  of  Mr.  Hodgkin  were 
also  factors. 

The  District  Attorney  struck  a  dramatic  pose,  and 
after  an  impressive  pause  proceeded: 

"Has,  digitalin  any  distinguishing  characteristic 
among  poisons?" 

"It  has." 

157 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"What  is  this  distinguishing  characteristic?" 

"There  is  no  chemical  test  for  it,  such  that  it  can 
be  detected  by  analyzing  the  contents  of  the  stomach 
or  other  organs." 

As  expected,  this  evidence  produced  a  sensation,  and 
the  examination  was  not  resumed  until  after  another 
pause. 

"What  is  the  fatal  dose  of  digitalin  in  powder?" 
he  then  asked — "a  dose  that  will  kill  an  adult  human 
being?" 

"The  minimum  lethal  dose  is  not  known  definitely." 

"Would  a  capsule  large  enough  to  contain  two 
grains  of  quinine  hold  enough  digitalin  in  powder  to 
kill  a  man?" 

"Enough  to  kill  three  men,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

The  prosecutor  again  paused. 

"What  is  the  color  of  digitalin  in  powder?"  was 
the  concluding  question. 

"White,"  answered  the  witness. 

Beckwith  became  so  much  interested  in  the  recital 
that  more  than  once  he  lost  sight  of  his  critical  situa- 
tion. Though  he  and  the  Colonel  had  been  over  the 
ground  in  advance,  as  opportunity  offered,  he  now 
explained  and  coached,  but  in  a  guarded  way,  for 
the  eyes  of  the  jury  were  upon  him. 

158 


THE     CASE     OF     THE     STATE 

The  evidence  of  the  chemist  was  duplicated  by. 
his  colleague,  and  other  experts  invaded  the  court- 
room with  their  learned  guesses.  Minute  proof  was 
made  of  the  scene  at  Wattengurter's  and  the  events 
of  the  coroner's  inquest.  The  cremation  was  also 
described,  with  its  inconsiderate  haste. 

A  smooth-shaven  man  was  called  to  the  stand. 
Beckwith  pulled  the  Colonel's  coat-sleeve  until  he  was 
within  whispering  distance. 

"That's  the  waiter  at  Maltby's !" 

"In  the  name  of  God!  They've  found  him! 
They've  got  everybody !" 

"After  you  had  served  the  prisoner  and  the 
deceased,"  asked  the  District  Attorney,  "did  you  have 
occasion  to  go  to  their  room  again?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"For  what  purpose?" 

"1  fetched  the  bill." 

"What  were  they  doing  when  you  entered?" 

"Talking,  sir." 

"Anything  else?" 

"Yes,  sir — the  prisoner  had  in  his  left  hand  a  small 
box." 

"Go  on." 

"And  in  his  right  hand  he  had  a  capsule." 

159 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"Describe  it." 

"Like  any  two-grain  quinine  capsule,  sir." 

"Filled  or  empty?" 

"Filled,  like  you  get  them  in  drugstores." 

"Could  you  tell  the  color  of  the  substance  with 
which  the  capsule  was  filled?" 

"White,  sir." 

"Are  you  certain?" 

"Positive." 

"Why  are  you  positive  that  it  was  white?  Did 
anything  occur  that  caused  you  to  remember  it  par- 
ticularly?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Tell  what  it  was  and  all  the  circumstances." 

"Well,  sir,  when  I  opened  the  door  to  go  in  with 
the  bill,  the  prisoner  was  pushing  the  capsule  across 
the  table  to  his  friend.  It  rolled  from  his  hand  a  bit 
on  the  table  and  it  was  easy  to  see  it  was  white. 
There  was  no  tablecloth,  and  the  table  was  dark 
wood." 

"What  further  did  the  prisoner  do  with  the  white 
capsule  ?" 

"He  made  a  sudden  move  and  grabbed  it  and  pulled 
it  back  under  his  hand." 

"Did  you  see  the  white  capsule  again?" 

160 


THE     CASE     OF     THE     STATE 

"No,  sir." 

"What  did  he  do  with  the  box?" 

"He  put  his  hand  over  that,  too." 

"How  much  longer  did  you  stay  there?" 

"Until  the  bill  was  paid." 

"Who  paid  it?" 

"His  friend." 

"And  then  you  left?" 

"I  did,  sir." 

It  was  proved  that  within  a  month  of  the  tragedy 
Beckwith  had  purchased  from  a  drugstore  near  his 
home  a  number  of  poisons,  among  them  digitalin  in 
the  form  of  a  white  powder ;  and  that  about  six  weeks 
prior  to  the  tragedy  he  had  bought  a  recent  treatise 
on  the  subject  of  poisons  which  was  now  fully  identi- 
fied and  carefully  guarded  by  the  prosecutor. 

"How  about  the  book?"  impatiently  whispered  the 
Colonel. 

"That's  true,"  admitted  Beckwith,  as  he  studied 
his  counsel's  face. 

Was  the  Colonel  dismayed  at  the  completeness  of 
the  evidence  for  the  State? — or  was  he  now  convinced 
of  guilt? 

Beckwith's  impulse  was  to  seek  comfort  from  the 
eyes  of  Alice,  and  he  turned  so  that  she  might  be  in 

161 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

his  line  of  vision.    She  was  looking  full  into  his  face, 
but  his  courage  failed  him. 

The  will  was  introduced,  and  Mr.  Carpenter  read 
it  with  an  insinuating  emphasis  on  its  singular  pro- 
visions, calculating  to  impress  upon  the  jury  the  im- 
probability of  anyone  making  such  a  will  without  the 
influence  of  another  and  compelling  mind.  The  codicil 
was  treated  in  a  similar  manner. 

With  an  endeavor  to  create  another  sensation  the 
clerk  of  the  Hotel  Leopold  was  questioned.  He  had 
unlocked  the  door  of  Mr.  Hodgkin's  room  as  soon 
as  he  had  heard  of  his  death  and  had  found  a  letter. 
This  letter  he  produced  at  the  direction  of  Mr. 
Carpenter.  It  was  triumphantly  submitted  to  the 
Colonel,  who  passed  it  in  turn  to  his  client.  They 
read  it  with  an  air  of  indifference,  and  it  was  carefully 
marked  for  identification  and  solemnly  given  to  the 
prosecutor  for  safe  keeping. 

Beckwith  drew  a  long,  weary  breath  and  sat  a  little 
less  erect. 

The  witness  resumed.  He  had  found,  also,  a  book. 
Upon  the  flyleaf  was  an  inscription  admitted  to  be 
in  the  handwriting  of  the  prisoner.  This  was  read  in 
a  loud  voice: 

"To  Emanuel  Hodgkin.     From  B.  M" 

162 


THE     CASE     OF     THE     STATE 

Mr.  Carpenter  turned  the  back  of  the  volume 
toward  him  and  faced  the  jury.  An  impressive 
silence  spread  over  the  courtroom.  After  a  pause 
he  exclaimed: 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  the  title  of  this  book  is 
'Cremation.'  " 

Then  he  gave  the  book  into  the  hands  of  the  jury. 

It  was  shown  that  it  had  been  in  Mr.  Hodgkin's 
possession  long  prior  to  the  making  of  the  codicil. 

A  witness  named  O'Connor  was  duly  heralded  by 
the  State — an  unwitting  subject  of  still  another  con- 
trived sensation. 

"Who's  he?"  asked  the  Colonel,  impatiently,  but 
under  his  breath. 

"Have  no  idea — none  whatever!"  answered  Beck- 
with. 

The  man  upon  the  stand  related  how  he  and  a 
companion  named  Murphy  had  gone  to  the  Miller 
homestead,  representing  themselves  to  be  plumbers, 
and  had  viewed  the  basement.  A  detective  named 
Walsh  had  admitted  them  to  the  house  next  door, 
under  cover  of  which  they  had  tunneled  into  the 
brick  cellar  of  the  prisoner's  home,  where  they  had 
found  a  room  with  a  small  stove,  a  large  table,  the  top 
of  which  was  carefully  oiled,  a  stationary  washbasin, 

163 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

some  shelving  upon  which  were  numerous  bottles 
partly  filled  with  fluids  or  powders,  a  hanging  shelf 
and  many  odd-looking  appliances  and  devices. 
Having  placed  in  baskets  everything  movable,  they 
had  kept  their  treasure  in  sight  continuously  until  it 
was  handed  to  Professor  Longworth  for  examination. 
At  the  conclusion  of  his  evidence  the  witness  identified 
the  contents  of  the  baskets,  including  the  treatise 
of  which  the  District  Attorney  had  been  a  jealous 
guardian. 

The  officers  of  the  law  watched  the  prisoner  closely, 
but  they  discovered  nothing  uncommon  in  his  expres- 
sion; nor  were  they  able  to  perceive  any  look  of 
concern  in  the  faces  of  his  wife  and  mother,  for  the 
women  had  been  warned  not  to  appear  surprised,  no 
matter  what  might  be  proved. 

The  evidence  of  O'Connor  was  confirmed  by  his 
companion,  Murphy;  also,  with  important  additions, 
by  Walsh,  the  detective.  The  recent  work  on  poisons 
the  detective  had  found  lying  open  at  a  page  which 
treated  of  digitalin  and  told  of  its  deadly  character. 
And  he  had  noticed  particularly  that  the  bottle  marked 
"Digitalin"  was  almost  empty. 

"As  a  detective  experienced  in  such  matters,  you 
were  aware,  I  suppose,  that  most  homicidal  poisoning 

164 


THE     CASE     OF     THE     STATE 

is  committed  by  women  or  on  account  of  women?" 
asked  Colonel  Sickles. 

"I  am,"  replied  the  witness. 

"Tell  the  jury,  then,  all  that  you  did  to  find  the 
woman  in  the  case,"  demanded  the  questioner. 

Greatly  embarrassed,  the  detective  was  driven  from 
one  position  to  another  and  finally  admitted  that  he 
had  merely  hunted  the  prisoner  down  with  no  thought 
as  to  his  guilt.  It  also  transpired  that  he  had  been 
paid  by  Miss  Hodgkin. 

The  evidence  concerning  the  bottle  was  disquieting 
to  Beckwith.  It  seemed  strongly  inculpating.  If  he 
had  used  up  the  digitalin  within  a  month  before  the 
death  of  his  client  he  must  have  made  frequent  experi- 
ments with  it;  and  there  was  involved,  also,  the  sug- 
gestion that  some  of  the  drug  had  been  taken  out  to 
fill  the  suspected  capsule.  The  Colonel  held  the  same 
view  and  assailed  the  witness  in  a  remorseless  manner, 
but  no  great  doubt  was  cast  upon  the  detective's 
story. 

Professor  Longworth  on  the  stand  commanded 
close  attention.  For  thirty  years  a  college  instructor 
in  chemistry,  he  had  devoted  much  time,  in  and  out 
of  his  laboratory,  to  the  study  of  poisons.  His  opin- 
ion was  that  Mr.  Hodgkin  had  died  from  a  dose 

165 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

of  digitalin.  He  knew  the  prisoner,  who  had  called 
on  him  five  or  six  times — always  to  inquire  about  some 
poison. 

The  witness  had  received  the  baskets  found  in  the 
den.  He  explained  to  the  jury  the  nature  and  uses 
of  the  contents,  which  included  everything  necessary 
for  a  small  laboratory  devoted  to  toxicology.  The 
bottles  had  been  carefully  examined,  and  the  powders 
and  liquids  had  been  analyzed  and  tested.  They 
corresponded  with  the  labels  on  the  bottles  and 
embraced  substantially  all  ordinary  poisons. 

Mr.  Carpenter  picked  out  a  bottle  nearly  empty, 
containing  a  white  powder. 

"What  is  this  bottle  labeled?" 

"Digitalin,"  answered  the  witness. 

"And  what  is  the  substance  in  the  bottle — what 
there  is  left  of  it?" 

"Digitalin,"  the  Professor  repeated. 

The  bottle  was  gravely  passed  over  to  the  jury 
for  their  inspection. 

This  was  an  old  trick,  well  established  in  meta- 
physics— exciting  the  imagination  by  an  object 
alleged  to  have  been  an  agency  in  the  commission 
of  a  crime — most  effective  when  the  object  possesses  a 
mysterious  power.  It  had  been  used  against  Beck- 

166 


THE     CASE     OF     THE     STATE 

with's  clients.  Then  he  had  deemed  it  unjust;  now 
it  was  clearly  inhuman. 

The  State  was  rushing  the  case  dramatically  to  a 
close. 

Mr.  Carpenter  asked  his  colleague  for  the  letter 
identified  by  the  hotel  clerk.  It  was  dated  the  day 
before  the  tragedy.  With  studied  deliberation  he 
read  it  to  the  jury: 

Mr.  Emanuel  Hodgkin, 

Hotel  Leopold,  City. 
Dear  Mr.  Hodgkin: 

Matters  of  importance  have  arisen  which  demand  action. 
If  you  can,  please  call  tomorrow  at  noon;  if  not,  please  advise. 

Faithfully  yours, 

BECKWITH  MILLER. 


167 


CHAPTER  XVII 
WIFE  AND  MOTHER 

Corrupt  rulers  may  pervert  the  constitution;  ambitious  dema- 
gogues may  violate  its  precepts;  foreign  influence  may  control 
its  operations;  but  while  the  people  enjoy  the  trial  by  jury, 
taken  by  lot  from  among  themselves,  they  cannot  cease  to  be 
free.  — Edward  Livingston. 

* 

TT  was  a  source  of  great  grief  to  Miss  Hodgkin 
that  she  had  been  denied  the  satisfaction  of  more 
actively  aiding  a  conviction.  The  District  Attorney 
deemed  it  wise  to  have  her  use  her  black -bordered  hand- 
kerchief in  the  courtroom,  but  kept  her  away  from 
the  witness-stand.  He  could  have  invented  some 
pretext  for  calling  her,  but  the  defense  would  be  sure 
to  uncover  her  bitter  and  malicious  spirit,  and  that 
might  lose  the  case. 

The  prosecution  had  greatly  increased  the  strain 
of  the  trial  and  embarrassed  and  perplexed  Colonel 
Sickles  by  its  willful  omission  to  mention  any  knowl- 
edge of  the  den  and  by  delaying  the  introduction  of 
the  evidence  in  regard  to  it.  Worry  and  night-work 

168 


WIFE     AND     MOTHER 

were  telling  upon  him,  and  he  looked  jaded  when  he 
began  his  address  to  the  jury,  in  which  he  outlined 
the  defense.  • 

His  facts  were  at  command,  and  he  handled  them 
effectively  and  in  an  agreeable  and  apparently  in- 
genuous manner. 

He  had  a  way  of  taking  the  jurors  into  his  con- 
fidence that  was  admirable,  and  in  this  instance  so 
deftly  done  as  to  amount  to  genius.  At  the  same  time 
he  fell  just  short  of  giving  full  details,  so  that  he 
closed  with  the  sympathy  of  the  jury  deeply  enlisted 
and  their  curiosity  thoroughly  aroused.  They  also 
believed  that  he  had  made  a  fair  statement  and  felt  a 
sense  of  personal  obligation  to  him. 

The  defense  was  now  under  sail. 

Mr.  Hodgkin  was  brought  to  life  again  and  his 
tobacco  habit  reviewed.  The  story  was  told  from 
different  angles.  He  was  an  incessant  and  excessive 
smoker  and  addicted  to  chewing  his  cigar-ends.  This 
constant,  immoderate  and  double  use  of  tobacco  was 
notable  on  his  last  day.  And  on  that  morning  he  had 
eaten  at  his  hotel  two  dishes  of  peaches;  they  were 
new  in  the  market  and  not  ripe;  they  had  been  care- 
lessly stored,  with  more  than  a  possibility  of  con- 
tamination; and  four  other  guests  who  had  eaten 

169 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

of  the  peaches  on  the  sami  morning  were  stricken 
with  cholera  morbus,  although  not  fatally. 

Witnesses  to  the  good  reputation  of  the  prisoner 
were  numerous — members  of  the  bar,  the  Rector  of 
St.  Andrew's  Church,  and  clients  and  neighbors. 
Alice  had  aided  George  in  subpoenaing  these  wit- 
nesses. She  had  aroused  a  sympathetic  interest,  and 
a  number  of  them  had  gone  with  her  to  the  office  of 
Colonel  Sickles. 

They  were  followed  by  experts  on  the  subject  of 
poisons  who  were  asked  long  and  involved  hypothetical 
questions,  written  out  beforehand  and  read  to  them. 
The  specialists  were  of  the  opinion  that  Mr.  Hodgkin 
had  died  from  nicotine  poisoning  combined  with  chol- 
era morbus.  But  they  could  not  account  satisfactorily 
for  the  experiments  of  the  chemists. 

The  District  Attorney,  in  reading  up  for  the  trial, 
had  learned  that  in  a  celebrated  case  in  France  a 
physician  was  convicted  of  poisoning  by  digitalin, 
in  part  on  testimony  similar  to  that  of  the  Pittsburgh 
chemists,  and  was  subsequently  executed.  Several 
times  he  attempted  to  bring  out  the  fact,  but  his 
opponent,  likewise  familiar  with  the  case,  adroitly 
stopped  him,  greatly  to  Beckwith's  relief. 

The  defense  now  called  a  number  of  witnesses  who 

170 


WIFE     AND     MOTHER 

were  acquainted  with  the  detective  Walsh  and  knew 
his  reputation  for  truth  and  veracity  to  be  bad. 

As  to  one  witness,  apparently  not  more  than  fifty 
years  old,  a  bare  rumor  had  reached  the  State  that 
he  had  been  in  Van  Dieman's  land.  The  prosecutor 
knew  that  transportation  to  that  island  had  been  dis- 
continued thirty  years  before,  and  it  seemed  certain 
that  the  man  had  been  a  visitor  there  rather  than  a 
convict.  Nevertheless,  in  concluding  his  cross- 
examination,  he  raised  his  voice,  and,  speaking  with 
rapidity,  asked: 

"Were  you  ever  in  Van  Dieman's  land?" 
The  witness,  astonished,  answered  promptly,  "Yes," 
and  the  Colonel,  following  the  impulse  of  the  moment, 
failed  to  probe  an  innocent  circumstance  and  left  the 
jury  in  the  belief  that  the  man  was  a  felon,  which 
cast  further  suspicion  upon  his  fellows,  already 
proved  to  be  irresponsibles. 

Alice  walked  quietly  and  resolutely  to  the  clerk's 
desk  and  was  sworn.  It  was  apparent  to  all  how 
delicate  she  was,  and  a  feeling  of  pity  spread  over 
the  courtroom,  while  her  husband  was  rigid  with  sup- 
pressed emotion. 

Her  testimony  was  simple,  free  from  resentment, 

171 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

and  spoken  with  womanly  grace  in  a  gentle  manner. 
Considerately  she  was  led  over  the  steps  of  her  story 
without  a  slip. 

The  District  Attorney  cross-examined  about  the 
den,  but  he  was  brief,  for  he  knew  that  with  such  a 
witness  he  was  using  double-edged  tools.  Moreover, 
he  could  argue  to  the  jury  that  a  wife — any  wife — 
under  such  conditions  would  swear  to  nothing  that 
would  injure  her  husband. 

The  Colonel  again  took  George  into  his  confidence. 
"A  wife's  evidence,"  he  said  in  an  aside,  "is  not 
worth  much  in  itself,  but  her  presence  before  the  jury 
counts — it  tends  to  palsy  the  hand  that  would  sign 
a  hostile  verdict." 

The  advantage  thus  gained  was  followed  up.  Mrs. 
Miller  was  the  next  witness.  The  benign  face  unmis- 
takably bespoke  a  saintly  character,  and  her  dress 
told  of  an  earlier  sorrow. 

Beckwith  had  no  fear  that  his  mother  would  make 
any  misstep.  The  tension  was  relaxed,  and  he  bowed 
his  head  slightly.  It  seemed  like  reverence. 

Alice's  heart  melted.  She  drew  over  her  face  a 
thick  veil,  but  it  did  not  hide  her  tears. 

Mrs.  Miller  was  questioned  sufficiently  to  corrob- 
orate briefly  her  daughter  and  to  impress  the  jury 

172 


WIFE     AND     MOTHER 

with  her  strong  personality.  The  Colonel  then 
challenged  his  opponent: 

"Mr.  Prosecutor,  ask  the  lady  anything  you 
please." 

He  was  afraid  he  would  be  taken  at  his  word  and 
that  the  mother  would  be  confused  by  a  long  examina- 
tion, but  the  District  Attorney  was  cautious  and  did 
not  ask  a  question. 

During  these  scenes  Alexander,  agitated  and 
puzzled,  looked  on  inquiringly  from  one  participant 
to  another,  vainly  searching  for  light. 

These  incidents  passed  without  any  demonstration, 
and  the  trial  proceeded.  But  the  hearts  of  the  jury 
were  touched  and  their  resolution,  for  the  moment  at 
all  events,  was  shaken. 

Colonel  Sickles  felt  a  profound  compassion  for 
the  distressed  family  and  regretted  that  they  were 
doomed  to  pass  through  such  an  affliction,  but  he  was 
pleased  with  the  situation. 


173 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
A  DANGEROUS  WITNESS 

And  now  good  countrey  men  let  vs  (I  pray  you)  consider, 
what  honour  or  policie  can  mooue  vs  to  imitate  the  barbarous 
and  beastly  maners  of  the  wilde,  godlesse,  and  slauish  Indians, 
especially  in  so  vile  ...  a  custome?  — James  the  First. 


"pVOCTOR  RICHARD  BURKE  was  regarded  as 
•^"^  the  leading  medical  witness  of  the  city.  He 
was  an  enthusiast.  The  side  which  employed  him 
had  an  assistant  counsel,  for  he  would  coach  the 
lawyer  in  the  case  and  advise  him  how  to  examine  not 
only  himself,  but  every  other  medical  witness.  He 
had  a  fine  presence,  a  positive  manner,  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  subject  under  investigation,  abso- 
lute composure,  and  a  not  overtowering  moral  sense. 
His  conscience  was  not  elastic,  but  it  would  stretch 
a  little  in  warm  weather. 

He  was  dangerous. 

He  had  testified  in  other  cases  presided  over  by  the 
Judge,  and  the  two  exchanged  bows,  in  a  formal  and 
absent-minded  manner.  Mr.  Carpenter  looked  envi- 

174 


A     DANGEROUS     WITNESS 

ously  at  the  witness,  for  the  State  had  tried  to  employ 
him,  at  the  suggestion  of  Miss  Hodgkin.  But, 
whatever  his  faults,  the  Doctor  had  no  great  love 
of  money  and  much  preferred  to  testify  for  the 
defendant  in  the  present  case,  though  the  compensa- 
tion was  nominal.  It  would  be  some  satisfaction  to 
aid  in  proving  the  prisoner  innocent,  but  to  be  a  party 
to  the  strangulation  of  a  fellow-being  seemed  grew- 
some  business. 

The  Doctor  detailed  his  education  as  a  physician, 
his  numerous  hospital  connections  and  his  special 
study  of  poisons.  He  then  explained  the  nature  of 
nicotine. 

The  effects  of  smoking,  he  testified,  are  dependent 
on  a  number  of  conditions — the  most  important,  the 
strength  of  the  weed,  that  from  Virginia  being  fully 
three  times  as  strong  as  that  from  Havana.  In 
anticipation  of  this  evidence  it  had  already  been 
shown  that  Robert's  tobacco  was  from  Virginia, 
while  Mr.  Hodgkin  habitually  used  Havana  cigars. 

Constant  smokers  of  mild  tobacco  accustom  the 
system  to  its  use,  but  are  poisoned  by  a  stronger 
variety,  and  sometimes  by  a  different  kind. 

It  had  been  disclosed  in  evidence  that  Mr.  Hodgkin 
did  not  expectorate  while  smoking.  Referring  to  this 

175 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

phase  of  the  habit,  the  Doctor  explained  that  tobacco 
is  excreted  with  little  change  by  the  kidneys  and 
salivary  glands,  and  that  when  the  expectoration  is 
restrained  that  avenue  of  excretion  is  cut  off  and  the 
smoker  retains  more  of  the  poison. 

Smoking  and  at  the  same  time  chewing  the  end 
of  the  cigar,  he  said,  was  unquestionably  the  most 
injurious  form  of  using  the  weed. 

The  Doctor  went  on  at  great  length,  piling  up 
fact  upon  theory,  giving  with  elaborate  detail  the 
disintegrating  effects  of  tobacco  and  indicting  it  for 
nearly  every  crime  against  health  known  to  medicine. 
The  long  recital  impressed  the  jury;  even  the 
Judge  was  interested,  particularly  as  he  knew  from 
the  Doctor's  reputation  that  he  had  not  made  a  state- 
ment which  he  could  not  fortify  by  citing  an  authority 
or  recounting  an  experiment.  But  this  evidence  was 
merely  preliminary.  The  witness  reinforced  it  with 
a  masterful  application  of  medical  knowledge  to  the 
circumstances  attending  Mr.  Hodgkin's  death,  though 
the  forms  of  law  rendered  it  wearisome. 

With  nice  discrimination  he  specified  the  symptoms 
common  to  poisoning  by  digitalin  and  by  nicotine, 
graphically  describing  the  similar  action  of  the  two 
poisons  and  demonstrating  how  like  the  action  of 

176 


A     DANGEROUS     WITNESS 

digitalin  is  that  of  nicotine  assisted  by  cholera 
morbus. 

Finally  it  was  the  Doctor's  opinion  that  Mr. 
Hodgkin  had  died  from  the  effects  of  excessive  smok- 
ing and  the  habitual  chewing  of  cigar-ends,  aggra- 
vated by  cholera  morbus. 

At  the  conclusion  of  his  testimony  jurymen  and 
spectators  marveled  at  the  readiness  of  the  man, 
whether  or  not  they  were  convinced. 

The  Colonel  was  visibly  fatigued.  As  he  had 
expected,  his  two  opponents,  for  the  very  purpose 
of  sapping  his  strength,  had  kept  him  under  pressure 
for  most  of  the  trial.  No  sooner  had  he  finished 
combating  one  than  the  other  entered  the  lists.  This 
alternating  warfare  had  been  pitiless,  and  the  strain 
was  telling  on  him.  But  the  Doctor  was  as  fresh  as 
when  he  went  upon  the  stand. 

Beckwith  sat  easy  in  his  chair.  He  knew  the  Doctor 
would  come  out  victorious  in  matching  wits  with  the 
District  Attorney,  and  he  set  much  store  by  the 
expected  encounter. 

The  prosecutor  addressed  the  witness  in  a  bantering 
tone.  Smiling,  he  asked: 

"You  smoke,  do  you  not,  Doctor?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  quick  response. 

177 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"That  is  all,"  exclaimed  the  questioner  with  a 
satisfied  air. 

The  Colonel  was  on  his  feet  instantly. 

"How  much  do  you  smoke?"  he  queried. 

"Very  little,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  '"I  used  to 
be  a  great  smoker,  but  some  years  ago,  when  the 
attention  of  the  medical  profession  was  called  to  this 
subject,  I  studied  it,  made  some  experiments  and 
observed  my  patients  closely.  As  a  result  I  became 
alarmed,  and  after  a  hard  struggle  I  abandoned  the 
habit." 

The  noon  hour  was  at  hand,  and  a  recess  was 
ordered.  After  the  jury  had  withdrawn  and  while 
the  Colonel  TOas  collecting  his  papers  he  looked  at 
the  District  Attorney. 

"Give  me  a  cigar!"  he  demanded. 

The  prosecutor  smiled,  drew  a  cheroot  from  his 
pocket  and  passed  it  across  the  table  with  mock 
stealthiness.  His  opponent  lighted  it,  between  puffs 
grunted,  "Cheer  up,"  turned  on  his  heel  and  left 
the  courtroom. 


178 


CHAPTER  XIX 

EXPLAINING 

The  three  most  difficult  things  to  do  are  to  keep  a  secret, 
suffer  an  injury,  and  employ  one 's  leisure.  — Voltaire. 


T>ECKWITH  assumed  the  role  of  witness  with 
composure,  although  not  blind  to  the  embarrass- 
ments of  explaining.  While  he  was  perfunctorily 
answering  the  preliminary  questions  the  difficulties 
of  his  situation  piled  up  before  him.  His  life  was 
at  stake.  There  sat  his  family,  who  would  suffer  from 
an  adverse  fate  long  after  his  own  sufferings  were 
ended,  and  the  ties  that  bound  them  were  so  close  that 
to  look  into  their  eyes  would  take  the  edge  from  his 
courage.  There  were  his  twelve  peers  sitting  in 
judgment,  and  each  had  imbibed  from  popular 
prejudice  a  suspicion  of  lawyers  in  general,  even 
though  full  confidence  was  reposed  in  the  lawyer  of 
his  own  selection.  The  Judge  was  stone.  The  power- 
ful machinery  of  the  State  was  complete  and  perfect 
and  merciless.  His  own  position  was  an  awkward  one : 
used  to  asking  questions  freely,  he  now  had  to  answer 

179 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

under  restriction.  He  retained  his  outward  calm,  but 
could  feel  his  heart  pumping  madly. 

Mr.  Hodgkin  and  he — so  ran  Beckwith's  story — 
aside  from  the  most  intimate  professional  relations, 
had  been  social  friends,  fond  of  fishing,  and  had  liked 
to  be  by  themselves.  Learning  of  his  companion's 
interest  in  cremation,  he  had  bought  and  given  him 
the  book  on  the  subject  found  in  his  room  at  the 
hotel. 

The  will  and  codicil  had  been  drawn  by  him  in  the 
natural  channel  of  professional  employment  without 
persuasion  of  any  kind,  and  charges  for  the  services 
had  been  settled  in  the  ordinary  course  of  a  lawyer's 
practice. 

He  had  not  administered  poison  to  Mr.  Hodgkin 
and  had  no  knowledge  or  information  or  belief  that 
anyone  else  had  done  so. 

His  interest  in  the  subject  of  poisons  had  been 
aroused  by  a  young  medical  student  named  Bowers, 
who  had  been  a  friend  and  boarder  at  his  home  after 
his  father's  death.  Assisting  the  young  man  in  many 
of  his  experiments  and  investigations,  he  had  gradu- 
ally become  fascinated  with  that  line  of  study. 
Bowers  had  introduced  him  to  a  former  proprietor 

180 


EXPLAINING 

of  the  drugstore,  from  whom  he  had  procured  the 
poisons — a  privilege  continued  by  the  new  owner. 

The  digitalin  bottle  had  not  been  almost  empty. 
He  had  attempted  to  use  a  dose  of  it  forcibly  on  a 
cat,  but  the  animal  had  been  so  strong  and  vicious 
that  the  design  was  abandoned,  after  the  poison  had 
been  knocked  out  of  the  spoon  in  which  it  was  being 
administered.  Since  then  he  had  not  tried  any  experi- 
ments with  the  drug,  and  the  bottle  had  been  full 
when  last  seen  except  for  the  single  spoonful.  He  had 
not  noticed  it  particularly,  but  would  have  been  sure 
to  do  so  had  it  been  nearly  empty. 

The  recent  treatise  on  poisons,  when  last  used  by 
him,  had  not  been  left  open  at  the  page  where  digi- 
talin was  discussed.  His  books  had  been  arranged 
in  order,  away  from  mice,  on  the  small  hanging  shelf 
referred  to  by  the  witnesses,  and  after  using  them  he 
had  always  been  careful  to  stand  them  up. 

Colonel  Sickles  now  came  to  a  nice  point  in  the 
evidence.  He  calculated  that  if  his  client  should 
admit  a  familiarity  with  poisons  in  general  the  State 
would  be  sure  to  make  him  confess  a  knowledge  of 
digitalin  in  particular;  and  if  brought  out  in  a 
dramatic  way,  and  duly  emphasized,  it  was  likely  to 

181 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

produce  an  unfavorable  effect  upon  the  jury.  To 
minimize  the  difficulty,  he  developed  in  an  off-hand 
way  that  Beckwith  was  familiar  with  the  character- 
istics of  a  number  of  named  poisons,  and  digitalin 
had  an  inconspicuous  place  in  the  list.  The  Colonel 
went  a  step  farther  in  the  same  direction  and  showed, 
casually,  that  Beckwith  had  known  for  years  that 
there  is  no  chemical  test  by  which  digitalin  can  be 
detected  in  a  dead  body. 

Another  incident  was  treated  in  a  similar  manner. 
At  the  coroner's  inquest  Beckwith  had  told  what  his 
friend  had  eaten  at  his  last  lunch,  but  had  not  named 
the  place — Maltby's.  This  omission,  he  now  claimed, 
was  a  mere  oversight  of  which  he  had  been  totally 
unaware  until  it  was  called  to  his  attention  long 
afterward. 

The  letter  to  Mr.  Hodgkin  had  been  written  two 
days  after  an  interview  in  which  he  had  complained 
about  fees.  Although  their  relations  had  survived 
other  disputes,  he  had  come  to  realize  that  he  would 
lose  his  client  unless  some  concessions  were  made,  and 
he  had  reluctantly  written  the  letter.  At  their 
meeting  a  reduction  in  his  scale  of  charges  had  been 
made  with  the  grace  of  necessity;  Mr.  Hodgkin  had 

182 


EXPLAINING 

seemed  satisfied,  and  they  had  spent  the  afternoon 
together. 

"What  were  the  matters  of  importance  referred 
to  in  your  letter?"  asked  the  Colonel  with  pretended 
carelessness. 

"A  tenant  had  threatened  to  quit — but  I  admit 
this  was  an  excuse  more  than  a  reason.  I  wanted  to 
make  sure  of  seeing  Mr.  Hodgkin  before  he  put  his 
business  into  the  hands  of  another  lawyer." 

This  proof,  also,  the  Colonel  had  thought  best  to 
develop  himself. 

"Do  you  know  whether  the  letter  was  copied  in 
your  copybook?" 

"It  was  not,"  Beckwith  replied. 

This  was  still  another  circumstance  which  the 
Colonel  preferred  to  bring  out,  for  he  was  aware  that 
the  prosecution  had  learned  of  it  at  the  time  of  the 
burglary  and  would  be  sure  to  probe  such  a  sensitive 
spot. 

The  occurrence  at  Maltby's  was  treated  with  care. 
Beckwith  acknowledged  that  he  had  had  the  small  box 
with  the  single  capsule,  but  denied  the  waiter's  story 
that  he  had  pushed  it  across  the  table  or  drawn  it  back 
or  concealed  it.  The  box,  originally  filled  with  cap- 

183 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

soles  of  quinine,  had  been  in  his  desk  at  the  office, 
all  but  one  capsule  having  been  used.  Feeling  a  little 
chilly,  he  had  put  the  box  in  his  pocket,  and  he 
happened  to  hare  the  capsule  and  the  emptv  box  on 
the  table;  he  had  been  merely  playing  with  them 
when  the  waiter  came  into  the  room  to  collect  the  bilL 
Later,  on  the  way  to  Florence's  Hotel,  he  had  swal- 
lowed the  capsule  and  put  the  box  back  into  his 
pocket  without  giving  it  any  thought.  Finding  it 
there  when  he  was  in  the  boat,  he  had  thrown  it  into 
the  water.  And  he  stated  that  he  customarily  took 
capsules  or  pills  without  anything  with  which  to  wash 
them  down. 

The  Colonel  regretted  that  his  client  was  not  deny- 
ing the  story  altogether :  there  were  too  many  things 
to  explain.  He  fairly  covered  the  incident  and  then 
hurried  on  to  Robert's  story,  every  detail  of  which 
was  retold.  The  two  versions  did  not  differ  in  any 
material  respect. 

In  concluding  his  testimony  Beckwith  affirmed  that 
he  had  requested  the  Coroner  to  make  a  poit-mortem 
examination  if  the  physicians  were  in  doubt.  He 
explained  that  from  his  knowledge  of  nicotine 
poisoning  and  what  little  information  he  had  of 
cholera  morbus  he  had  believed  at  the  time,  and  had 

184 


EXPLAINING 

continued  to  believe,  that  the  physicians  were  correct. 
He  then  knew  that  other  drugs  of  the  same  family  as 
nicotine  produce  many  symptoms  similar  to  those 
resulting  from  that  poison,  but  the  opinion  of  the 
physicians  was  consistent  with  the  more  natural  cause 
of  death,  and  he  had  not  considered  exceptional  causes. 

A  big  sigh  of  relief  slipped  from  Alice  when  the 
narrative  was  ended.  She  was  confident  that  all  must 
perceive  that  her  husband  was  innocent.  All  his 
torments  passed  swiftly  in  review  before  her  mind  as 
she  noted  how  fearlessly  he  faced  the  men  who  were 
seeking  his  life.  Beckwith's  white  lock,  which  had 
early  kindled  a  smoldering  suspicion  in  the  minds  of 
the  jurors,  now  became  a  victor's  plume,  and  Beckwith 
himself  was  transformed  into  her  Henry  of  Navarre. 

The  illusion  was  not  long  indulged,  for  the  District 
Attorney,  well  knowing  that  anyone  in  Beckwith's 
situation  is  at  a  disadvantage,  relentlessly  plied 
him  with  questions,  taking  advantage  of  everv 
opportunity  to  give  his  answers  a  damaging  color. 

The  letter  was  the  first  subject  of  inquiry.  The 
disagreement  claimed  to  be  the  occasion  for  writing 
it  was  carefully  investigated — its  substance  as  well  as 
the  attendant  circumstances.  Beckwith  confessed 
that  he  rarely  failed  to  copy  a  letter  in  his  letter- 

185 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

book,  but  the  one  in  question  he  had  regarded  as 
personal  and  the  idea  of  copying  it  had  not  occurred 
to  him.  The  prosecutor  made  much  of  this  admission 
and  protracted  his  examination  in  regard  to  the 
incident,  but  the  Colonel  did  not  dare  to  interfere. 

Alice  sat  straight,  her  hands  tightly  grasping  the 
arms  of  her  chair. 

Beckwith  acknowledged  that  he  had  taken  from 
his  client's  pocket  after  his  death  the  letters  it  con- 
tained and  had  handed  them  to  the  Coroner,  but 
denied  that  he  had  examined  them  until  they  were 
returned.  He  admitted,  also,  that  at  the  first  prac- 
ticable moment  he  had  taken  possession  of  all  the 
papers  in  the  room  of  the  deceased  and  that  Robert 
had  been  in  a  position  in  the  boat  where  he  would 
have  been  able  to  see  the  box  if  it  had  been  thrown 
upon  the  water.  He  granted,  too,  that  the  sug- 
gestion of  taking  a  private  room  at  Maltby's  had 
come  from  him. 

At  a  swift  pace  the  District  Attorney  led  the 
witness  through  a  maze  of  technical  evidence  regarding 
poisons,  boring  into  his  knowledge  of  digitalin  and 
nicotine  and  the  significance  of  Mr.  Hodgkin's 
symptoms.  Beckwith  became  committed  in  so  many 
ways  that  it  would  have  been  fatuous  to  deny  that 

186 


EXPLAINING 

he  had  known  at  the  time  that  his  friend's  condition 
might  have  been  the  result  of  poison. 

"Why  was  it,  then,"  asked  the  prosecutor,  "that 
you  waited  for  your  companion  to  urge  going 
ashore?" 

"While  I  knew,"  explained  Beckwith,  "that  my 
friend  might  have  been  poisoned,  I  did  not  believe 
that  he  was." 

He  gave  the  same  excuse  for  not  trying  to  get  an 
antidote  when  they  had  arrived  at  Wattengurter's 
saloon. 

This  evidence  harrowed  Alice,  and  it  required  every 
grain  of  her  will  power  to  stifle  her  fears. 

The  president  of  the  bank  had  been  told  by  Mr. 
Hodgkin  in  Beckwith's  hearing  that  the  account  was 
kept  in  his  lawyer's  name  merely  for  convenience. 
Beckwith  was  not  indebted  to  his  client  at  the  time  of 
his  death,  nor  had  he  been  at  any  other  time. 

"Your  books  and  papers  are  open  to  the  inspection 
of  these  gentlemen?"  interjected  the  Colonel,  rising 
suddenly  to  accentuate  the  question. 

"Certainly,"  Beckwith  replied. 

The  Colonel  spoke  in  a  low  voice  to  George: 

"Opportunities  like  that  you  have  to  grab  quick!" 

George  assumed  a  blank  look,  as  though  the  remark 

187 


THE    UPAS     TREE 

were  of  no  consequence,  for  fear  the  jury  might 
gather  from  his  expression  a  hint  of  what  had  been 
said. 

The  District  Attorney  showed  by  his  manner  that 
he  appreciated  the  Colonel's  strategy.  He  had 
examined  the  books  and  papers  carefully  and  had 
caused  them  to  be  returned  to  the  prisoner's  office 
shortly  after  the  arrest,  but  he  was  in  no  position 
to  refer  to  the  fact  that  the  place  had  been  burglarized 
in  the  interest  of  justice  and  thus  disclose  to  the  jury 
the  farce  of  the  witness  now  consenting  to  let  the 
State  see  his  papers  and  books  of  account.  He  was 
compelled  to  let  the  accused  pose  as  one  who  had 
nothing  whatever  to  conceal.  He  was  not  slow,  how- 
ever, to  make  capital  out  of  the  other  phases  of  the 
situation,  beginning  many  questions  with  the  phrase, 
"Do  your  books  and  papers  show?"  In  this  way  he 
brought  out  many  facts  more  or  less  suspicious,  some 
of  which  the  accused  had  not  referred  to  in  his  direct 
testimony. 

At  intervals  the  prosecutor  drew  from  Beckwith 
admissions  that  he  had  been  customarily  in  debt.  He 
adroitly  emphasized  the  evidence  by  frequent  questions 
at  unexpected  moments  and  not  only  proved  Beck- 
with's  embarrassments  in  money  matters  during  his 

188 


EXPLAINING 

whole  career,  but  did  so  in  an  effective  manner  not  at 
all  consoling  to  his  adversary. 

Finally,  after  his  trying  and  risky  experience  upon 
the  rack  and  a  short  redirect  examination,  the 
prisoner  left  the  witness-chair.  He  had  been  com- 
pelled to  make  unfortunate  admissions.  His  manner 
was  not  in  his  favor :  he  was  too  exact.  He  had  had 
no  doubt  that  his  vigor  and  courage  would  be  equal 
to  any  task,  but  he  had  not  counted  on  the  change 
which  imprisonment  and  worry  had  wrought,  and  his 
discomfiture  had  been  increased  by  surprise  at  his 
lack  of  strength  and  nerve.  He  had  proved  no 
exception  to  the  rule  that  lawyers  make  poor  wit- 
nesses. Moreover,  the  District  Attorney  had  been 
ruthless  in  using  the  tricks  of  the  cross-examiner, 
especially  those  which  put  the  witness  in  such  a  light 
that  he  had  to  explain. 

The  prosecutor  had  caught  him  a  number  of  times 
in  an  original  psychological  trap.  The  underlying 
theory  was  that  a  witness  has  two  motives  for  any 
given  act,  and  that,  when  his  motive  is  inquired  for,  he 
will  give  the  one  which  is  not  controlling,  either 
concealing  the  other  or  stating  it  as  if  it  were  inci- 
dental. When,  therefore,  he  asked  Beckwith  why 
he  had  done  any  specific  thing,  as  soon  as  the  motive 

189 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

was  stated  he  would  hasten  to  say:  "That  is  one 
reason — now  give  us  the  real  reason."  And  when 
the  second  motive  was  stated,  always  with  a  protest, 
the  jury  could  see  that  it  probably  was  the  one  that 
controlled. 

Another  stumbling-block  was  Beckwith's  deliber- 
ation, which  at  times  gave  his  wily  questioner  the 
opportunity  to  ask :  "Why  do  you  hesitate  ?" 

Tricks  like  these  Beckwith  had  made  use  of  in  his 
own  cases,  but  now  that  they  were  tried  on  him  he  had 
found  them  very  disconcerting — the  more  so  as  he 
appreciated  the  position  in  which  they  placed  him 
before  the  jury. 

The  real  art  of  the  prosecutor,  however,  had  lain 
in  knowing  when  to  desist.  Explanations  which 
would  explain  he  had  not  asked  for.  While  he  had 
used  his  theory  of  the  two  motives  with  good  effect, 
he  had  not  tried  it  once  too  often ;  nor  had  he  pressed 
anything  far  enough  to  arouse  sympathy  for  the 
witness.  The  whole  cross-examination  had  shown  him 
to  be  a  man  of  cunning,  training  and  discretion. 
Beckwith  felt  its  damaging  character  and  also  realized 
that  at  best  the  jury  did  not  wholly  believe  him. 

With  this  evidence  the  defense  was  concluded. 
Colonel  Sickles  had  calculated  that  calling  the 

190 


EXPLAINING 

prisoner  last  would  give  a  dramatic  advantage,  for 
the  central  figure  of  the  case  had  been  reserved  as 
a  climax.  The  human  being  upon  the  stand  before 
the  jury  was  flesh  of  their  flesh,  bone  of  their  bone, 
and  the  real  question  was: 

"Shall  we  put  this  man  to  death?" 


191 


CHAPTER  XX 
AT  A  DISADVANTAGE 

The  criminal  law  is  not  founded  in  a  principle  of  vengeance. 
It  does  not  punish  that  it  may  inflict  suffering.  The  humanity 
of  the  law  feels  and  regrets  every  pain  it  causes,  every  hour  of 
restraint  it  imposes,  and  more  deeply  still  every  life  it  forfeits. 

— Webster. 


/"~\NLY  one  more  witness  was  to  be  heard.  Robert, 
^"^  who  had  been  recalled  by  the  State,  was  again 
seated  before  the  jury.  On  Mr.  Hodgkin's  last 
journey  no  empty  box  had  been  thrown  into  the  river, 
so  far  as  he  knew,  nor  had  he  observed  any  such  object 
floating  on  the  surface  of  the  water.  Beckwith 
shifted  to  a  more  restful  position,  for  the  evidence 
was  at  last  concluded. 

During  the  progress  of  the  trial  the  Colonel  had 
found  it  necessary  on  several  occasions  to  prolong 
his  labors  to  a  late  hour.  Once  he  had  been  compelled 
to  work  through  the  entire  night.  The  District 
Attorney,  having  more  machinery  at  command,  had 
fared  better. 

Now,  in  preparation  for  the  charge  to  the  jury 

19* 


AT     A     DISADVANTAGE 

and  the  closing  arguments,  all  the  lawyers  were 
obliged  to  content  themselves  with  a  few  hours'  sleep ; 
but  so  intense  was  the  interest  that  they  did  not 
show  the  strain. 

There  was  a  keen  desire,  shared  by  members  of  the 
bar  with  the  general  public,  to  hear  the  speeches,  and 
the  courtroom  was  packed  with  spectators,  many  of 
them  women. 

Colonel  Sickles  was  fretting — railing  at  the  forms 
of  procedure.  "To  my  argument  my  opponent  is 
allowed  a  reply,"  he  explained  in  protest  to  Alice 
and  the  mother,  "but,  no  matter  how  completely 
I  may  be  able  to  answer  his  points,  the  law  gives  me 
no  opportunity." 

A  moment  later  he  bowed  to  the  court  and  turned 
to  address  the  jury. 

Having  learned  that  Mr.  Carpenter  was  to  make 
the  one  speech  accorded  the  prosecution,  the  Colonel 
proceeded  to  cauterize  him,  at  the  same  time  inveigh- 
ing against  the  unfairness  of  a  system  whereby  the 
wealthy,  from  the  basest  motives,  are  permitted  to 
employ  talented  counsel  to  assist  in  doing  to  death 
the  unfortunate.  It  belonged,  he  said,  to  the  dark 
ages  of  inhuman  cruelty  and  oppression,  to  the 
arbitrary  rule  of  kings.  It  was  the  invention  of 

193 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

monsters  and  not  of  men.  Taking  advantage  of  the 
system  was  a  confession  that  the  case  of  the  State 
was  weak — an  admission  that  Justice  had  fallen  and 
Revenge  was  enthroned — an  avowal  that  sane  logic 
and  proven  facts  and  honest  evidence  were  to  be  laid 
aside  for  the  unreliable  deductions  of  the  orator. 

The  special  fund  referred  to  in  the  evidence  had 
been  proven  to  be  all  in  the  bank.  His  client  might 
draw  it  out,  to  be  sure,  but  under  no  circumstances 
could  he  escape  accounting  for  it.  The  estate  would 
be  administered  by  the  Surrogate's  Court.  And  when 
the  accused  should  come  into  possession  of  the  prop- 
erty as  trustee  he  would  have  to  account  to  the  Public 
Bath  Institute,  and  to  the  niece — a  piece  of  animated 
venom,  shrewd  and  not  to  be  hoodwinked. 

Reviewing  the  incident  of  the  troublesome  letter, 
step  by  step,  he  plausibly  elaborated  the  details, 
arguing  the  perfect  naturalness  and  likelihood  of  the 
prisoner's  story  and  contrasting  it  with  the  "mere 
suspicions"  of  his  adversary.  Having  exhausted  the 
subject,  he  avoided  any  further  reference  to  it. 

In  discussing  the  supposed  administering  of  digi- 
talin  the  Colonel  spoke  in  a  voice  of  dramatic 
earnestness.  His  manner  was  tense;  his  sentences 

194 


AT     A     DISADVANTAGE 

showed  painstaking  care  in  the  choice  of  words.  He 
realized  that  he  had  much  to  combat. 

The  coloring  of  the  waiter's  evidence  was  inspired, 
he  said,  by  the  police.  The  witness  and  all  others 
of  the  roaming  class  ought  not  to  be  relied  on  when 
a  human  life  was  at  stake.  The  very  infirmities  of 
memory  which  his  opponent  would  undoubtedly  urge 
against  his  client  were  indicia  of  innocence.  A 
guilty  or  dishonest  man  could  easily  have  trumped 
up  a  fabrication  to  fit  the  case  which  it  would  be 
impossible  to  disprove;  a  story  which  would  fully 
account  for  the  empty  capsule-box,  or  involve  the 
present  possession  of  a  box  containing  the  remainder 
of  the  capsules.  In  fact,  a  simple  denial  that  he  had 
ever  had  the  box  would  have  been  sufficient  if  the 
prisoner  had  chosen  to  make  it. 

"If  my  friend  and  client  had  given  his  friend  and 
client  poison,"  he  argued,  "would  not  Hodgkin,  when 
he  was  out  there  on  the  river,  when  he  was  sick  in  the 
boat,  have  said  to  his  Judas:  'That  capsule  is  play- 
ing the  mischief  with  me,'  or  'What  was  it  you  gave 
me  in  that  glass?'  Would  he  not  have  referred  in 
some  way  to  the  drug  which  it  is  supposed  he  took? 
They  tell  you  that  digitalin  has  an  acrid,  a  bitter 

195 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

taste.  If  Hodgkin  had  taken  the  drug  in  liquid  form, 
when  he  felt  sick,  would  he  not  have  remembered  how 
bitter  it  was?  And  would  he  not  have  spoken  of  it? 
'The  first  impulse  in  all  of  us  when  a  sickness  comes 
on  is  to  hunt  for  the  cause.  He  not  only  said  nothing 
about  a  capsule  or  a  drugged  drink,  but  he  did  men- 
tion the  contributing  cause  of  death — the  peaches. 
Such  is  the  testimony.  Robert  was  there.  He  heard 
all  that  was  said — and  told  it  on  the  stand.  He  did 
not  happen  to  see  the  floating  box,  but  that  is  nega- 
tive. Weighing  this  important  evidence  as  humane 
or  logical  or  sensible  men  must  weigh  it,  with  the 
illumination  of  the  surrounding  circumstances,  judg- 
ing it  by  standards  of  fair-minded  men,  it  means  inno- 
cence, and  you  could  not  make  anything  else  out  of 
it  even  if  you  wanted  to." 

The  accused  had  digitalin  in  his  basement  room, 
but  the  detective  Walsh  was  attempting  murder  when 
he  swore  that  the  bottle  was  practically  empty  and 
the  book  open  at  a  page  where  digitalin  was  discussed. 
This  testimony  had  little  bearing  on  the  case  except 
to  show  the  desperate  nature  of  some  of  the  evidence 
and  the  worthless  character  of  the  detective.  It  was 
"paid"  testimony,  worthy  only  of  the  niece,  spending 
her  legacy,  not  to  bring  a  guilty  man  to  justice,  but 

196 


AT     A    DISADVANTAGE 

to  break  a  will  and  work  out  a  low,  cowardly  and 
mistaken  revenge. 

All  men  much  alone,  particularly  bachelors  of 
advanced  years,  grow  one-sided  and  run  to  cremation 
and  baths  and  such  things.  It  was  a  rarity — this 
will — but  the  man  who  made  it  was  peculiar,  nearly 
always  alone,  brooding,  growing  on  one  side,  and 
getting  ready  to  do  an  unexpected  thing  with  his 
property.  If  a  man  wished  to  select  an  object  for 
his  bounty,  there  was  none  more  worthy  than  the 
Public  Bath  Institute.  And  as  a  monument  it  was 
far  and  away  preferable  to  cold  granite.  The 
deceased  was  a  director  of  the  charity  and  a  great 
bather.  It  was,  therefore,  natural  that  his  thoughts 
and  his  sympathy  should  turn  in  its  direction.  For- 
tunately men  do  not  think  along  the  same  lines  in 
the  matter  of  their  benevolence;  or  all  would  select 
a  common  philanthropy  and  the  remaining  charities 
could  not  be  maintained.  There  was  no  reason  why 
Hodgkin  might  not  have  given  his  estate  to  charity  if 
he  wished.  The  law  permitted  it.  The  niece  had  no 
right  to  the  property  either  by  law  or  nature.  Rela- 
tives have  no  natural  right  to  inherit — a  principle 
recognized  from  Blackstone  down.  At  all  events  the 
deceased  had  provided  that  his  niece  should  have  the 

197 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

income  from  his  property  during  her  life.  Probably 
this  was  a  more  generous  bequest  than  a  gift  of  the 
estate  outright,  as  then  she  would  spend  the  principal 
in  a  few  years  and  would  have  nothing  left.  So  that 
the  will  was  not  only  wise,  but  truly  just  to  the 
testator's  sole  surviving  relative.  It  might  be  odd, 
but  if  more  wills  were  like  it,  this  would  be  a  happier 
world. 

The  question  of  haste  in  cremating  the  remains 
was  hardly  worthy  of  contempt.  If  a  post-mortem 
examination  had  been  made,  the  body  would  have  been 
found  to  be  saturated  with  nicotine.  No  witness  had 
claimed  that  any  chemical  test  would  have  disclosed 
the  presence  of  digitalin,  even  if  present — merely 
that  there  could  have  been  another  of  those  hyper- 
scientific  physiological  tests,  too  unreliable  to  be 
considered  seriously  when  life  is  at  stake,  particularly 
in  the  case  at  hand,  which  not  only  involved  the  fate 
of  Beckwith  Miller,  but  the  happiness  of  the  three 
generations  whose  idol  he  was.  The  dangerous  op- 
posing counsel — the  wizard  of  the  courtroom — with 
his  matchless  rhetoric,  might  make  the  jury  believe 
that  in  this  cremation  incident  was  to  be  found  some 
evidence  of  guilt.  He  could  betray  them  into  believ- 
ing anything — for  a  time!  But  when  their  judgment 

198 


AT     A     DISADVANTAGE 

became  cool  they  would  cast  aside  the  evidence 
respecting  cremation  as  they  would  a  hollow  and  an 
empty  shell.  If  the  accused  had  believed  that  digi- 
talin  could  be  detected  by  a  chemical  test, — believed 
that  it  would  be, — then  all  the  circumstances  might 
afford  some  basis  of  suspicion.  But  he  had  known  all 
the  time  that  a  chemical  test  would  not  detect  digitalin. 
Therefore,  the  idea  that  he  had  caused  his  friend  to 
provide  for  cremating  his  body  became  absurd  as  an 
indication  of  guilt,  and  the  prompt  carrying  out  of 
this  wish  was  not  only  a  badge,  but  a  certificate,  of 
innocence. 

The  three  physicians  at  the  coroner's  inquest  had 
agreed  on  the  real  cause  of  death.  Their  evidence 
was  then  accepted  by  the  State  and  it  ought  to  be 
adopted  by  the  jury. 

The  financial  embarrassments  of  his  client  had  arisen 
from  the  very  fact  that  he  was  honest.  The  District 
Attorney  had  shown  zeal,  but  had  uncovered  a  sodden 
heart  when  he  suggested,  as  he  had  by  his  questions, 
that  poverty  is  temptation.  It  was  a  cruel  creed, 
to  point  the  finger  of  suspicion  at  every  man  who 
is  poor.  It  was  contrary  to  human  experience  and 
the  last  refuge  of  a  desperate  advocate. 

One  well  posted  in  the  ways  of  lawyers  would  have 

199 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

perceived  that  the  Colonel  was  straining  to  hide  ugly 
evidence  in  the  dust  of  invective.  Whether  or  not  the 
jury  was  convinced,  he  was  making  the  very  best  of 
a  bad  situation. 

The  prisoner's  study  of  poisons,  the  Colonel  con- 
tinued, was  not  strange :  it  had  been  his  pastime  even 
before  he  had  met  Hodgkin.  Most  men  of  intellect 
have  an  avocation  as  well  as  a  vocation;  nearly  all 
able  lawyers  have  a  diversion — politics,  bookwriting, 
painting,  horticulture,  the  study  of  handwriting, 
medical  jurisprudence — and  why  not  toxicology? 

As  he  approached  his  closing  period  the  veteran 
advocate  reviewed  the  pathetic  phases  of  the  case. 
Here  he  was  strong.  He  paid  an  exalted  tribute  to 
woman  and  brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of  every  juror 
as  he  referred  to  the  tender  and  delicate  nature  of 
the  plucky  and  true  little  wife  and  to  the  womanhood 
of  the  mother. 

The  grace,  the  beauty,  the  finish,  the  depth  of  this 
plea,  appealing  to  the  better  side  of  human  nature, 
effectively  ended  a  remarkable  speech. 


200 


CHAPTER  XXI 
THE  VERDICT 

I  attribute  my  success  in  public  speech  to  my  care  in  private 
conversation.  —  Gladstone. 

The  golden  ages  of  the  world  were  the  ages  of  democracy 
and  oratory;  and  the  most  brilliant  pages  of  every  country's 
history  were  written  when  the  voice  of  free  discussion  was 
heard  in  the  land.  No  people  ever  reached  a  high  development 
among  whom  this  voice  was  not  heard;  and  every  people  that 
strangled  it  soon  sank  into  degradation  and  misery. 

—  Altgeld. 


T  T  7"  HEN  the  time  had  arrived  for  the  State's  clos- 
ing address,  Mr.  Carpenter  remained  in  his 
seat,  hoping  that  his  silence  would  suggest  a  brief 
recess.  He  wished  the  jury  to  feel  rested  when  he 
began  his  speech,  but  preferred  that  the  court  should 
move  in  the  matter.  The  Judge  caught  the  idea  and 
excused  the  jury  for  a  short  time.  When  they  were 
again  in  their  seats  Mr.  Carpenter  spoke. 

After  a  cautious  and  ingratiating  introduction  he 
discussed  the  opportunity  for  committing  the  crime. 

"If  the  prisoner  had  the  poison  already  prepared 

201 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

for  his  victim  and  encased  in  a  capsule,  as  he  surely 
had,  it  required  but  an  instant  to  take  it.  And  it  was* 
taken  at  Maltby's — in  a  saloon  (not  an  unheard-of 
place  for  a  murder) — while  the  lawyer  and  his  quarry 
were  seated  in  the  private  room  together,  enjoying, 
as  the  prisoner  has  confessed,  what  was  rare  with 
them,  seclusion  and  privacy  while  they  dined.  Only 
one  thing  is  more  rare  than  this  luxury  of  a  private 
lunchroom — the  invention  of  a  murder  plot  which, 
at  some  point  in  its  execution,  does  not  fail !  The 
secrecy  so  carefully  provided  for  was  interrupted  at 
the  very  crisis  by  a  witness  not  only  to  the  means 
of  death,  but  to  the  guilty  hiding  of  it.  Such  is  fate ! 
So  obstinate  is  the  universal  psychic  law  which  detects 
the  destroyer  of  human  life !  That  the  waiter  was 
there  is  undisputed.  That  the  box  and  the  capsule 
were  there  is  admitted :  the  prisoner  was  playing  with 
them — the  excuse  of  a  child!  How  flimsy  his  tale! 
Only  one  capsule  left!  Taken  out,  the  box  was 
empty.  But  the  box  was  spirited  away !  Why  ?  No 
one  knows!  That  is  one  of  the  secrets  left  for  the 
Judgment  Day.  All  we  need  to  know  is  that  there 
was  no  occasion  to  destroy  the  box:  it  was  innocent 
enough,  if  it  really  contained  quinine !  Inadvertently 
taken  away  from  the  place  which  the  prisoner  had 

20? 


THE     VERDICT 

inadvertently  neglected  to  name  in  his  story  at  the 
inquest,  it  was  later  Inadvertently  found  and  inad- 
vertently thrown  into  the  river!  An  empty  box 
floats,  and  if  thrown  on  the  water  it  would  have 
floated  into  the  vision  of  Robert.  He  had  nothing 
to  do  but  scan  the  surface  of  the  river,  and  yet  he 
did  not  see  it.  Such  an  unusual  object  would  be 
noticed  as  it  floated.  The  prisoner  could  not  tell 
when  he  purchased  the  box  nor  where  he  obtained  it. 
Such  clumsy  stories  are  frequently  met  in  criminal 
cases,  but  never  in  a  case  where  the  accused  is 
acquitted!  Such  explanations  are  confessions.  And 
there  are  many  confessions  in  this  one  case.  Even 
the  adroit,  ingenious,  experienced,  audacious  and 
convincing  Colonel  Sickles  staggers  under  his  load 
and  attempts  to  confuse  the  judgment  with  noise 
and  vituperation. 

"The  temptations  that  cause  men  to  fall  are  those 
which  are  constant.  The  prisoner's  temptation  to  be 
rid  of  his  debts  was  undermining  his  will  during  the 
entire  period  of  his  manhood,  and  the  pressing  desire 
to  secure  relief  from  the  insidious  strain  of  unremit- 
ting vexation  was  ever  at  hand.  That  the  accused 
had  a  fixed  plan  for  making  money  and  lifting  this 
burden  of  debt  may  be  conceded,  but  he  had  come 

203 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

to  realize  that  it  was  too  much  beset  with  delay;    it 
was  too  homeopathic;    and  it  was  too  uncertain. 

"The  letter  and  the  circumstances  surrounding  it 
are  easily  capable  of  analysis.  Taking  the  prison- 
er's own  story,  the  two  men  had  quarreled.  The 
client  was  about  to  discharge  the  lawyer.  What 
would  become  of  the  lawyer  then!  He  could  barely 
exist  notwithstanding  the  help  of  the  client.  What 
would  be  his  fate  if  his  mainstay  should  be  taken 
from  him?  His  troubles  would  be  at  an  end  if  he 
could  lay  his  hands  on  twenty-one  thousand  dollars, 
especially  if  he  could  in  addition  appropriate  a  fair 
fraction  of  the  estate.  With  the  aid  of  even  the 
legitimate  charges  of  the  trusteeship  he  could  live. 
Stern  necessity  and  commanding  love  and  goading 
pride  combined  to  make  temptation  the  master.  His 
plans  were  deeply  laid.  Their  execution  had  been 
put  off.  But  the  situation  became  perilous,  and  no 
time  could  be  lost.  Decision  was  prompt !  The  letter 
was  written.  Contrary  to  custom,  it  was  not  copied. 
A  copybook  can  not  prudently  be  destroyed  nor  a 
page  torn  from  it.  The  lawyer,  as  the  executor  named 
in  the  will,  was  entitled  to  the  custody  of  the  dece- 
dent's papers.  If  the  letter  was  not  destroyed  by  the 
victim,  it  would  be  by  the  murderer.  The  lawyer 

MM 


THE     VERDICT 

acted.  And  when  the  deed  was  done  the  murderer  took 
possession  of  everything  on  the  person  of  his  victim. 
The  letter  was  not  there !  He  lost  no  time  in  demand- 
ing the  papers  at  the  hotel.  But  Fate  is  ever  on 
guard!  And  the  letter  and  the  book  were  in  other 
hands.  The  plan  had  failed.  Such  plans  always 
fail — at  some  point — in  some  manner. 

"The  letter  is  a  lie  by  the  confession  of  the  prisoner 
himself.  The  letter  is  cowardly !  It  is  the  act  of  a 
traitor.  Friendship  is  in  its  words,  but  murder  is  in 
its  heart.  The  whole  damnable  plot  has  come  to  light, 
and  neither  the  prisoner  nor  even  his  gifted  counsel 
can  hope  for  a  doubt,  reasonable  or  unreasonable,  in 
the  mind  of  any  man.  The  defense  is  gauze.  It  is  no 
defense." 

The  undue  haste  in  disposing  of  the  remains  was 
the  subject  of  a  volcanic  diatribe,  and  the  prisoner 
was  savagely  attacked  for  willfully  disobeying  the 
command  of  Bertha  Hodgkin  to  stop  the  cremation. 
If  he  chose  to  destroy  evidence  he  must  take  the  con- 
sequences imposed  by  the  law,  and  the  jury  had  the 
right  to  presume  that  the  evidence  would  be 
damaging. 

Mr.  Carpenter  then  reviewed  the  testimony  show- 
ing that  death  was  caused  by  digitalin,  re-analyzing, 

205 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

re-arguing  and  re-stating  to  gain  the  force  of 
repetition.  That  the  fatal  drug  was  digitalin,  for 
which  there  is  no  chemical  test  and  about  which  so 
little  is  generally  known,  pointed  directly  to  the 
prisoner,  who  was  on  friendly  terms  with  every 
poison;  who  admitted  a  familiarity  with  digitalin, 
had  it  in  his  laboratory  and  knew  a  capsule  of  it 
would  kill — a  fit  setting  for  the  secret  room,  the  open 
book,  and  the  bottle  that  contained  only  what  was 
left  of  the  poison  after  the  experiments  and  after 
the  fatal  dose  had  been  taken  out. 

Such  in  the  main  was  the  argument.  But  there 
was  another  and  a  more  important  feature — its  dress, 
its  appeal. 

As  it  advanced,  jury  and  spectators,  one  by  one, 
were  drawn  under  the  spell  of  that  indefinable  as- 
sembling of  thought,  voice  and  presence  which  consti- 
tutes oratory.  Mr.  Carpenter  was  a  disciple  of 
Daniel  Webster  and  aspired  to  be  a  master  of 
magnetic  speech.  He  had  labored  long  and  hard  to 
accomplish  his  purpose,  and  he  made  use  of  every  aid 
known  to  the  art,  not  the  least  of  which  was  the  habit 
of  denying  himself  solid  food  for  twenty-four  hours 
before  an  effort  of  importance. 

He  had  built  his  foundation,  reared  his  structure 

206 


THE     VERDICT 

with  its  pinnacles  and  crowned  it  with  a  dome,  all  in 
the  most  careful  and  skillful  manner.  Shades  of 
meaning  were  at  command,  as  clear  as  crystal,  but 
unknown  to  the  ordinary  speaker.  He  was  a 
magician  in  the  use  of  vivid  contrasts.  They 
gleamed  like  spears  in  sunlight.  His  pictures  were 
of  manifold  subjects  and  designs,  perfectly  executed. 
The  modulations  of  voice  were  almost  infinite,  and  no 
combination  of  pitch  and  volume  and  tone  was  ever 
duplicated.  Words  bounded  forth  unleashed  and  un- 
fettered. He  dashed  into  the  defense,  charging  with 
a  rush  and  spirit  that  compelled  conviction  by  its 
mere  momentum,  and  stiffened  with  ripping  censure 
as  he  scotched  the  viper  of  perjury.  A  moment  of 
calm,  and  the  dazzled  jury  followed  him  into  the  land 
of  fancy  while  he  ascended  from  earth  to  heaven  in  a 
marvelous  panegyric  upon  the  home,  secure  only  so 
long  as  the  laws  are  enforced. 

Another  pause,  long  and  dramatic.  One  could 
feel  the  gathering  of  strength.  By  degrees  the  ora- 
tor drew  into  action  his  power  to  the  last  atom,  carry- 
ing all  before  him  like  the  sweep  of  a  mighty  storm. 
Concentrating  his  entire  will  in  expressing  and  at  the 
same  time  restraining  his  emotions,  he  swung  into  a 
fervid  tribute  to  woman,  dwelling  upon  the  sacred 

207 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

duty  of  the  jury  to  protect  womankind  by  their 
verdict,  pleading  as  he  closed  that  no  woman  is  safe 
in  a  land  of  unpunished  assassins. 

To  the  trained  mind  the  oration  was  the  procession 
of  rhetoric,  not  the  march  of  logic ;  a  rare  manifesta- 
tion of  insinuating  magnetic  power,  not  an  exhibition 
of  intellectual  culture.  But  the  minds  of  the  jury 
were  not  trained,  and  to  them  it  was  bewildering. 

The  lawyer  walked  to  the  back  of  the  room  amid 
enthusiastic  greetings  that  amounted  to  an  ovation. 

When  the  first  wave  of  sensation  had  in  part  sub- 
sided the  jury  were  instructed  as  to  the  law  and 
retired. 

The  prisoner,  again  handcuffed,  was  taken  from 
the  courtroom,  the  court  officers  refusing  him  the 
privilege  of  remaining  until  the  incoming  of  the 
verdict. 

Anxiously  the  family  waited  and  long. 

"The  greater  the  delay  the  more  likely  is  the  jury 
to  acquit,"  observed  the  Colonel. 

These  words  comforted,  but  the  sufferers  soon  sur- 
rendered themselves  to  their  lowering  fears. 

Meanwhile  the  jury  were  deliberating.  Some  were 
violent,  a  few  stubborn.  One,  of  Scotch  descent,  lis- 
tened patiently  without  disclosing  any  sign  of  bias. 

208 


THE     VERDICT 

In  every  vote  there  was  a  blank  ballot  which  the  other 
jurors  instinctively  charged  up  to  him.  The  longer 
they  debated  the  more  influence,  little  by  little,  the 
silent  juror  acquired. 

At  last  the  man  made  a  visit  to  the  anteroom  where 
drinking-water  and  other  conveniences  were  provided. 

A  court  officer  was  in  charge.  According  to  law, 
he  had  taken  an  oath  not  to  communicate  with  the 
jury  on  any  subject  connected  with  the  trial. 

"Have  you  come  to  a  verdict?"  the  officer  inquired 
in  an  off-hand  and  agreeable  manner,  knocking  the 
ashes  from  his  cigar. 

"Not  yet,"  replied  the  Scotchman.  At  the  same 
time  he  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets,  conveying 
the  idea  that  he  would  be  glad  to  listen,  but  not  to 
talk. 

"You're  a  long  time  at  it,"  the  officer  remarked, 
feeling  his  way — "a  long  time.  It's  easy  for  us — 
we  see  so  many  of  'em.  If  they'd  leave  it  to  us  we'd 
decide  quick." 

He  paused  and  relighted  his  cigar,  blowing  a  large 
ring  of  smoke.  Gazing  past  it,  he  scanned  the  jury- 
man. 

There  was  no  sign  that  the  silence  would  be 
broken. 

209 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"How  much  longer  will  you  be?" 

"No  telling!"  drawled  the  juror  with  a  stage  yawn 
that  encouraged  his  questioner. 

"The  Judge  won't  stand  your  staying  out  long. 
He's  convinced — cocksure !  And  the  boss  is,  too — he's 
going  to  prosecute  some  other  bad  charges  against 
the  prisoner.  It's  easy !  We  know  'em  over  here !" 

Another  juror  came  into  the  room,  and  the  Scotch- 
man sauntered  back  to  his  fellows. 

Not  long  afterward  the  Judge  stepped  into  the 
courtroom  from  his  chambers.  Beckwith,  and  then 
the  jury,  conducted  by  the  court  officers,  took  their 
seats. 

The  Judge  held  a  whispered  consultation  with  a 
court  officer  which  the  prisoner's  family,  alert  to 
every  sign  and  sound,  tried  in  vain  to  fathom. 

The  clerk  rose,  holding  a  list  in  his  hand. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  please  answer  to  your 
names,"  he  called  in  a  loud  voice,  but  it  was  not  as 
firm  as  it  had  been  during  the  trial. 

As  the  names  of  the  jurors  were  called  Alice  held 
tight  her  husband's  hand. 

The  clerk  proceeded: 

"Have  you  agreed  upon  your  verdict?" 

"We  have,"  answered  the  foreman. 

210 


THE     VERDICT 

"Gentlemen,  please  rise.  The  prisoner  will  rise. 
Jurors,  look  upon  the  prisoner.  Prisoner,  look  upon 
the  jurors.  How  say  you,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  is 
the  prisoner  at  the  bar  guilty  or  not  guilty  of  the 
crime  charged  in  the  indictment?" 

"Guilty." 


CHAPTER  XXII 
THE  NEMESIS 


For  time  at  last  sets  all  things  even — 

And  if  we  do  but  watch  the  hour, 

There  never  yet  was  human  power 
Which  could  evade,  if  unforgiven, 

The  patient  search  and  vigil  long 

Of  him  who  treasures  up  a  wrong. 

— Byron. 


A  S  the  crushing  word  was  pronounced,  Beck- 
with  resumed  his  seat  with  a  heavy,  mechanical 
air,  and  Alice,  prompted  by  an  impulse  to  shelter, 
stepped  between  him  and  the  jury  and  drew  his  head 
tenderly  to  her.  He  could  feel  the  true  heart  thump- 
ing hard  and  fast  against  its  prison  wall. 

Mrs.  Miller,  racked  in  every  nerve,  grasped  his 
hand.  "I  know  you  are  innocent,"  she  exclaimed. 
Sinking  to  the  floor,  she  clung  to  the  hand  she 
held  in  both  of  hers.  "My  boy,"  she  moaned  piteously, 
and  wept  like  a  child. 

Beckwith,  disengaging  his  hand,  laid  it  gently 
upon  her  head,  where  the  snows  were  falling  fast, 

212 


THE     NEMESIS 

and  then  upon  that  of  Alexander,  who  was  sobbing 
bitterly. 

The  jury  was  discharged,  and  the  Judge  went 
slowly  to  his  chambers,  while  the  District  Attorney, 
interrupted  at  every  step  by  congratulations,  made 
his  way  to  his  office. 

The  prisoner  gave  the  Colonel  a  grateful  hand- 
shake and  then  sank  into  a  deep  mire  of  dejection. 
A  gruff  voice  aroused  him.  He  kissed  his  family 
goodbye — "for  the  present,"  he  said.  Then,  hand- 
cuffed to  a  court  officer  and  followed  by  attendants, 
he  turned  his  steps  to  the  jail.  At  last  the  fibers  of 
the  oaken  will  were  twisted.  As  he  left  the  court- 
room he  cast  toward  his  own  the  look  of  a  hunted 
creature. 

Alice's  eyes  were  dry.  She  was  stunned.  Mrs. 
Miller,  closely  watching,  hurried  her  home. 

There  a  messenger  presently  appeared  carrying  a 
long  box.  Mrs.  Miller  opened  it  and  took  upstairs  an 
armful  of  roses.  Alice  caressed  the  flowers,  looked  in 
vain  for  a  clue  to  the  giver  and  gently  whispered : 

"That  jasmine  flower!" 

She  stared  into  the  mother's  face  with  that  peculiar 
expression  which  portends  a  threatened  mind. 

Mrs.  Miller's  first  thought  was  to  secure  relief  by 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

forcing  tears.  She,  therefore,  folded  the  small  arms 
around  Alexander.  But  the  fount  was  dry. 

"Child  of  the  Flower  Moon !"  muttered  Alice.  She 
stared  vacantly.  "My  plumed  knight !"  she  plaintively 
exclaimed,  and  repeated  the  words  again  and  again. 

Mrs.  Miller  realized  that  there  was  great  danger 
and  imperative  need  of  help,  but  a  meager  purse. 
Fortunately,  the  altruistic  spirit  was  still  represented 
in  the  medical  profession.  A  skilled  and  sympathetic 
physician  hastened  a  recovery,  though  it  was  many 
weeks  before  the  patient  was  again  normal. 

After  the  verdict,  the  convicted  prisoner  and  his 
counsel  talked  earnestly  together. 

The  Colonel  was  for  delay.  Delay  was  feasible  in 
the  law!  It  would  make  hardships  for  the  family, 
but  it  was  too  useful  a  weapon  of  defense  to  throw 
away  even  to  spare  them.  Public  interest  would 
abate  as  time  went  by — political  emergencies  would 
be  out  of  the  way — the  court  actors  would  change — 
new  evidence  might  be  discovered ! 

It  was  months  before  the  motion  for  a  new  trial 
was  decided.  Then  it  was  overruled,  but  much  time 
had  been  gained.  Another  delay  intervened  before 
the  Judge  passed  the  resulting  sentence  of  death. 

f!4 


THE     NEMESIS 

Still  the  policy  of  the  Colonel  was  delay — all  that 
he  could  get. 

The  condemned  man  now  took  up  his  abode  in 
"Murderers'  Row." 

Nature  seemed  to  take  note  of  the  event,  for  the 
day  was  dark.  The  next  morning,  too,  was  gloomy 
— nowhere  more  so  than  in  the  office  of  Colonel 
Sickles.  Here  George  had  made  his  headquarters 
upon  the  abandonment  of  Beckwith's  office.  He  had 
picked  up  the  routine  work  and  was  rapidly  becoming 
necessary  to  his  employer. 

The  Colonel  was  smoking  and  talking  in  a  leisurely 
fashion  to  one  and  another  of  the  many  hangers-on 
who  turn  up  in  the  office  of  a  criminal  lawyer.  He  had 
scarcely  disposed  of  an  idle  caller  when  a  stranger,  an 
Italian,  appeared,  with  whom  he  went  into  his  own 
room  and  shut  the  door. 

This  was  uncommon.  It  was  seldom  that  Colonel 
Sickles  occupied  his  private  office.  He  preferred  to 
be  where  he  was  less  confined  and  where  he  could  sit 
in  his  favorite  chair,  with  his  feet  resting  on  the 
table,  and  smoke. 

Coming  out  again  from  his  own  room,  the  Colonel 
noticed  one  of  the  jurymen  in  the  recent  trial.  From 

215 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

long  habit  he  could  call  by  name  each  juror  in  a  case. 

"Hello,  Wiltsie!"  he  exclaimed.  "Tell  me!  Why 
did  you  hang  that  man?" 

The  juryman,  pumping  the  lawyer's  arm,  replied: 

"I'll  tell  you,  Colonel.  Your  client  was  too  game 
— he  had  the  nerve  to  poison  Hodgkin,  and  I  believe 
he  did  it." 

"I've  heard  that  before,"  rejoined  the  Colonel. 
"You  seem  to  have  had  your  nerve  with  you !" 

While  the  loungers  in  the  office  were  laughing  at 
this  sally  Miss  Hodgkin  entered. 

She  took  in  at  a  glance  the  location  of  the  offices 
and  moved  quickly  into  the  private  room.  As  she 
passed  she  spoke  in  a  peremptory  tone: 

"Colonel  Sickles,  I  should  like  a  word  with  you." 

He  followed  her,  and  she  shut  the  door. 

"I  have  come  to  see  you  professionally,"  she  began. 

"Very  well,  madam!" 

"And  I  do  not  want  you  to  speak  of  the  past." 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"I  am  a  determined  woman  and  believe  the  way 
to  accomplish  results  is  to  be  direct;  so  I  have  come 
straight  to  you." 

"Proceed,"  he  said  irritably. 

"I  understand  that  when  a  client  is  convicted  you 

216 


' '  Let  me  tell  you  that  this  lawyer  is  not  for  sale.  • 


THE     NEMESIS 

are  under  no  obligations  to  follow  his  case  on  to  a 
higher  court.    Am  I  correct?" 

"The  law  imposes  none,  madam." 

"Well,  I  would  like  to  know  what  arrangements 
can  be  made  with  you  not  to  try  the  case  in  the  next 
court." 

"Maybe  Beck  will  not  carry  the  case  up." 

"I  know  he  will." 

"Then  you  know  more  than  I  do." 

The  Colonel  fingered  his  ring  uneasily. 

"Well,  my  counsel  tells  me  he  will." 

"It  costs  money  to  go  up  in  a  case  like  this,  young 
woman." 

"People  raise  money  to  'go  up',"  she  observed, 
catching  his  phrase,  "when  life  is  at  stake." 

"If  they  can,"  he  interposed. 

"Well,  I  wish  to  arrange  with  you  to  drop  the 
matter,  as  you  say  you  are  under  no  obligations  to 
proceed  further." 

The  Colonel  paused,  but  only  for  a  second. 

"The  man  has  no  money  and  can  raise  none  for 
any  purpose,"  he  declared,  willfully  ignoring  the 
suggestion. 

Miss  Hodgkin  was  annoyed.  She  had  encountered 
a  man  she  could  neither  manage  nor  understand. 

217 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"I  have  braved  a  great  deal  to  come  here,"  she 
exclaimed,  with  a  wave  of  her  gloved  hand,  "and  I 
hope  you  will  not  prolong  the  interview.  My  nerves 
are  strained  to  the  highest  point  now." 

The  Colonel  ran  his  thumbs  into  the  armholes  of 
his  vest: 

"What  is  it  you  want,  madam?  Ask  and  I  will 
give  you  an  answer  at  least." 

Miss  Hodgkin  was  baffled.  Evidently  she  would  be 
obliged  to  make  a  blunt  proposition  to  the  lawyer. 
She  was  equal  to  the  emergency. 

"Would  money  tempt  you  to  drop  the  case?"  she 
asked,  with  an  insinuating  inflection. 

"You  mean,  to  let  the  case  stay  dropped — do  you?" 
was  the  tantalizing  reply. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  now,  let  me  put  a  situation  to  you.  You 
have  money — or  the  expectation  of  it.  Here  is  a  man 
convicted  of  murder.  Like  all  men,  in  greater  or  less 
degree,  he  has  others  dependent  upon  him.  There 
is  a  possibility  that  he  has  been  wrongly  convicted. 
At  all  events  he  should  be  accorded  the  privilege  of 
having  that  question  determined  by  the  appellate 
tribunals.  But  he  has  no  money.  Now,  how  noble 
a  woman  you  would  be  if  you  should  come  forward 

218 


THE     NEMESIS 

and  say:  'Here,  I  don't  want  the  blood  of  this  man 
on  me.  I  spent  a  large  sum  to  convict  him,  but  the 
man  should  have  a  chance.  /  will  furnish  the  money !' 
Now,  there,  madam,  is  something  for  you  to  think 
about !" 

He  was  thrusting  daggers  into  the  soul  of  his 
visitor,  and  he  enjoyed  it. 

"This  is  nonsense,"  she  protested,  impatiently  tap- 
ping her  foot  upon  the  floor.  While  she  was  angry, 
the  idea  that  Beckwith  could  not  raise  the  necessary 
funds  gratified  her. 

"You  may  regard  it  as  nonsense,"  he  retorted.  "I 
do  not.  There  are  those  who  believe  that  a  lawyer — 
particularly  a  criminal  lawyer — can  be  bought  like  a 
piece  of  furniture.  Because  in  the  heat  of  a  trial, 
when  a  client's  life  is  in  jeopardy,  I  do  things  of 
which  I'm  not  proud,  you  think  you  can  bribe  me  to 
leave  him  in  the  ditch.  Let  me  tell  you  that  this  law- 
yer is  not  for  sale !" 

She  looked  toward  the  door. 

The  Colonel  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant.  Stand- 
ing with  his  index  finger  pointed  at  her,  in  lawyer 
fashion,  he  shook  it  with  emphasis  and  continued: 

"You  sit  still  and  hear  me  until  I  get  through. 
You're  a  woman — I  respect  that  much  anyway.  But 

219 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

I've  more  to  say  to  you.  You  want  my  reply  to  your 
offer,  and  I  propose  that  you  shall  sit  here  until  you 
get  it,  and  all  of  it.  When  I  took  this  case  it  was 
my  judgment  that  my  client  was  guilty,  but  it  was 
not  for  me  to  be  his  judge.  As  the  preparation  for 
the  trial  progressed  and  I  learned  more  of  Beck's  real 
character,  I  grew  doubtful  as  to  his  guilt,  though  I 
knew  that  a  perfect  record  of  many  years  may  be 
destroyed  in  as  many  moments  by  a  willful  error  of 
the  heart  or  a  chance  slip  of  the  brain.  Before  long 
I  believed  him  innocent,  and  from  what  I've  been 
told  in  this  very  room  less  than  half  an  hour  ago,  I 
can  say  to  you  that  had  he  been  as  deficient  in  con- 
science as  you  are  in  mercy  he  would  not  have  been 
convicted.  I  advise  you  to  let  him  alone.  You  are 
trying  to  murder  this  man !  Some  day  you  will  look 
at  your  hands — they'll  be  covered  with  blood !  They'll 
haunt  you!  The  man  has  no  money  with  which  to 
defend  himself,  but  I — one  of  the  class  you  think 
you  can  buy  with  a  little  gold — I,  the  lawyer  who 
stoops  to  do  sly  things  in  court — /  will  take  the 
money  from  my  own  pocket,  and  if  I  can  help  it  you 
shall  not  hang  him !" 

The  visitor  had  her  hand  upon  the  doorknob. 

"Go,"  he  said.     "You  could  not  buy  me  with  all 

220 


THE     NEMESIS 

the  money  in  America.  Go,  and  have  more  respect 
for  lawyers  hereafter!" 

Miss  Hodgkin  moved  quickly  through  the  door. 
In  her  path  stood  Alice. 

The  Colonel  hurried  toward  them,  his  hands  raised 
in  warning. 

"Why  is  this  woman  here?"  asked  Alice,  flushed 
and  erect. 

"She  has  just  been  trying  to  bribe  me  to  desert 
you,  Mrs.  Miller,"  answered  the  Colonel,  coolly. 

Alice  turned  upon  the  Nemesis  a  look  of  restrained 
anger  and  of  compassion. 

"You  are  making  a  mistake,  Miss  Hodgkin !"  she 
protested.  "Your  energy  is  worthy  a  better  cause, 
as  you  will  learn  if  you'll  but  keep  your  hands  off.  If 
you  don't,  you'll  reap  the  whirlwind.  I  ask  no  favor 
from  my  husband's  enemy,  but  for  your  own  sake  let 
me  and  mine  alone,  and  time  will  show  you  the  wrong 
you  are  doing." 

Miss  Hodgkin  was  edging  past  her  tormentor. 

"I  have  no  quarrel  with  you,"  she  replied,  "but  I 
will  have  my  own;  and  I'll  see  punished  all  who  get 
in  the  way " 

She  flounced  through  the  door. 

Turning  to  Alice,  the  Colonel  exclaimed : 

221 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"You  are  right.  I  can  tell  you  now  what  the  career 
of  that  woman  will  be.  I've  seen  so  many  such  cases 
that  I  know.  She's  a  bad  one!  She'll  secure  a  com- 
promise from  the  Bath  Institute  people.  They'll  be 
alarmed  at  the  prospect  of  expensive  litigation,  the 
chance  that  the  estate  might  fall  into  the  hands  of  a 
trust  company,  with  its  usual  heavy  charges,  and  the 
possible  loss  of  a  part  of  the  principal.  Knowing 
the  difficulty  of  raising  funds  to  carry  on  a  war  in 
court,  they'll  give  up  a  large  part  of  the  estate.  No 
matter!  Revenge  is  expensive.  Men  make  conces- 
sions to  the  unfortunate,  but  get  all  they  can  when 
employed  for  revenge.  Already  Miss  Hodgkin  is 
liable  for  a  large  sum.  Her  fortune  will  last  but  a 
short  time.  She  has  always  had  money — she  always 
will  have  it.  When  her  property  has  been  dissipated 
she'll  find  means  of  getting  more.  But  no  one  can 
give  way  to  such  a  passion  as  hers  and  survive  it. 
In  a  few  years,  some  way  or  other,  she'll  come  to  a 
bad  end." 

The  Colonel  did  not  waste  a  great  deal  of  thought 
on  Miss  Hodgkin.  He  began  at  once  preparations 
for  dragging  his  case  through  the  higher  tribunals. 

He  used  to  the  limit  all  the  dilatory  tactics  known 

222 


THE     NEMESIS 

to  the  profession,  bluffing  and  begging  his  way,  and 
gained  a  month  here,  a  week  or  a  day  there,  until 
the  greater  part  of  a  year  had  gone  by  before  the 
case  was  heard  in  the  court  of  "intermediate  conjec- 
ture," as  the  General  Term  was  affectionately  called 
by  the  legal  profession. 

As  expected,  he  lost.  Then  he  about-faced  and 
turned  heaven  and  earth  to  get  an  early  hearing  in  the 
court  of  last  resort — the  Court  of  Appeals. 

Alice  had  seen  this  august  tribunal  in  session — had 
heard  her  husband  try  to  convince  the  learned  men 
in  their  haughty  robes  that  a  client  had  been  unjustly 
convicted.  The  memory  of  their  barricaded  manner 
and  frozen  faces  did  not  inspire  hope  in  her  present 
peril. 

Why  her  counsel  had  abandoned  his  policy  of  delay 
was  a  mystery.  The  only  satisfaction  he  would  give 
was  implied  in  the  words,  "You  must  trust  me."  Alice 
feared  they  were  speeding  to  destruction,  but  he  would 
not  relent. 

The  Colonel  was  called  to  the  office  of  the  District 
Attorney. 

"Your  anxiety  to  rush  this  case  is  very  sudden," 
the  prosecutor  bantered. 

223 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"I  want  to  get  it  out  of  the  way.  I've  had  a 
warning — my  doctor  says  I  must  have  a  rest." 

"Well,  have  one — the  case  won't  be  reached  till  you 
get  back!" 

"But  I  have  other  cases,  and  I  can't  leave  now." 

"I  have  some  rights  and  some  cases  myself — don't 
forget  that.  Come,  Colonel,  you  have  some  object 
in  this  change  of  front — out  with  it !"  And  the  prose- 
cutor rose  and  slammed  a  book  on  his  desk. 

"Impatient,  eh!"  grunted  the  Colonel.  "I'm  not 
asking  for  anything — you're  the  one — what  did  you 
call  me  over  here  for?" 

"I  want  that  case  to  go  over — I'll  have  it  put  over 
anyway,  but  I'd  rather  do  it  amicably." 

"Can't  do  it,"  protested  the  Colonel.  "Can't  do  it 
— would  like  to  accommodate  you,  but  it  can't  be 
done." 

"Then  don't  ask  any  favors  from  this  office  again 
— they  won't  be  granted." 

"What's  up?  Why  don't  you  let  the  case  go  on? 
Afraid  of  it?" 

"Bosh!  What  do  you  want?  If  you're  decent 
I'll  give  it  to  you.  Let's  get  ahead !" 

"I  don't  want  anything,  I  tell  you,  and  I'd  help 
you  if  you'd  be  frank  and  tell  me  why  you  want 


THE     NEMESIS 

delay.  I'm  not  going  to  throw  away  any  advantage 
unless  I  know  why." 

"Advantage,  fiddlesticks!  You're  pipy  ing  with 
me.  All  there  is  about  it  is  that  I'm  in  the  midst  of 
my  campaign,  with  the  convention  right  upon  me, 
and  I  can't  give  the  time." 

"Why  in  the  devil  didn't  you  say  so!  I'll  fix  it 
up — of  course.  But  you'll  have  to  fix  me  up  if  I 
want  a  continuance  later.  I  want  a  chance  to  get 
away " 

"I  couldn't  make  any  stipulation  like  that " 

"Don't  need  to,"  interrupted  the  Colonel.  "Don't 
need  to — just  your  word!  I'll  accommodate  you 
gladly  now  if  you  will  me  later — if  I  ask  it!" 

The  District  Attorney  took  a  moment  to  reflect. 
He  ran  over  the  situation  in  his  mind. 

"Very  well,"  he  said,  with  a  sneer. 

"I'm  glad  I'm  by  that,"  the  Colonel  observed  to 
George.  "I  figured  correctly.  The  District  Attor- 
ney couldn't  afford  to  run  the  risk  of  having  the  case 
decided  before  the  convention.  He's  in  a  tight  place 
politically,  and  the  court  might  reverse  the  convic- 
tion !  That  move  ought  to  be  good  for  another 
year !" 


225 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
GLOOM 

Thus  drifting  afar  to  the  dim-vaulted  caves 

Where  life  and  its  ventures  are  laid, 
The  dreamers  who  gaze  while  we  battle  the  waves 

May  see  us  in  sunshine  or  shade; 
Yet  true  to  our  course,  though  our  shadow  grow  dark 

We'll  trim  our  broad  sail  as  before, 
And  stand  by  the  rudder  that  governs  the  bark, 

Nor  ask  how  we  look  from  the  shore! 

—  Holmes. 


A  FTER  the  conviction  the  Miller  family  rented 
to  strangers  a  room  in  their  home,  Alice  earned 
a  small  amount  by  playing  the  piano  for  a  young 
woman  of  the  neighborhood  who  taught  dancing,  and 
they  eked  out  an  existence  in  other  ways.  But  it  was 
plain  that  more  effective  relief  must  be  found.  Alice 
thought  of  the  life-insurance  policy.  Fearing  another 
of  Beckwith's  vetoes  and  believing  she  might  avoid 
it  if  she  secured  in  advance  the  promise  of  a  loan, 
she  wrote  to  the  insurance  company  that  she  would 
apply  to  them  in  person  the  next  day. 

At  the  company's   office   she  was  questioned   and 
delayed,  and  finally  referred  to  the  vice-president. 

226 


GLOOM 

"I  presume  you  know  who  I  am?"  she  began. 

"Perfectly."  The  official  picked  up  her  letter  from 
his  desk  to  corroborate  his  statement. 

Alice  unfolded  the  policy  and  laid  it  on  the  table 
before  him. 

"I  don't  know  how  much  your  company  advances, 
but  we  will  want  all  we  can  get.  I  believe  you  know 
the  circumstances." 

The  vice-president  folded  his  arms. 

"We  don't  loan  on  these  policies,"  he  said,  "but 
we  have  a  companion  company  that  does — that  part 
of  it  is  all  right — but  the  trouble  is  they  won't  loan 
on  this  policy " 

"Not  at  all?"  interrupted  Alice.  Her  head  was 
swimming. 

"No — not  at  all.  Pardon  me  if  I  am  frank — I 
speak  with  the  greatest  sympathy  and  respect.  If 
your  husband  should  die  a  natural  death  the  policy 
would  be  good  for  the  full  amount,  but  if  he 
doesn't " 

"Pardon  me!  I  can't  permit  you  to  mention  such 
a  matter — it  is  shocking!" 

The  official  walked  back  and  forth,  rubbing  his 
hands. 

"Be  calm,  madam !"  he  counseled,  nervously.     "My 

227 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

position  is  not  enviable.  I  am  a  man  of  family,  and 
your  situation  appeals  to  me  strongly " 

"You  accepted  the  money  from  me  when  I  paid  the 
premiums — one  very  recently — since  the  trial — and 
you  said  nothing  then." 

The  man  flushed. 

"Indulge  me  while  I  say  that  under  fitting  condi- 
tions we  will  be  glad  to  acknowledge  liability." 

"But  you  knew  all  the  circumstances  when  you 
accepted  the  premiums.  You  knew  the  money  was 
my  own — that  I  was  trying  to  encourage  my  unhappy 
husband — and  you  said  not  a  word  about  any  possible 
conditions." 

"We  have  only  recently  submitted  the  question  to 
our  counsel,  who  is  the  attorney  for  the  companion 
company  as  well.  I  regret  sincerely  that  as  matters 
now  are  it  will  be  impossible  to  get  the  loan;  but 
such  is  the  hard  fact.  I  am  helpless,  Mrs.  Miller." 

"I  see  now,"  mused  Alice,  as  she  gained  the  street, 
"what  was  the  meaning  of  the  atmosphere  of  reluc- 
tance and  postponement  I  encountered  when  I  went 
into  the  office.  How  self-satisfied  these  people  are — 
permitting  me  to  pay — that  last  premium  particularly 
— without  warning!  And  then  refusing  to  loan  on 

228 


GLOOM 

the  policy!  'Permanent  Assurance!*  The  company 
is  well  named!" 

When  sure  of  her  strength  she  went  with  Mrs. 
Miller  and  Alexander  to  the  office  of  the  Colonel. 

George  welcomed  them  heartily.  While  Alice  had 
won  his  heart  before  her  misfortune,  now  she  was  his 
ideal  of  true  womanhood. 

She  placed  a  hand  tenderly  on  his  head. 

"For  some  time  my  husband  and  I  have  been 
eager,  George,"  she  said  with  emotion,  "that  you 
should  have  some  token  of  our  gratitude  for  your 
loyalty,  and  he  has  granted  me  the  pleasure  of  car- 
rying out  our  wish." 

Alice  feelingly  placed  in  George's  hand  Beckwith's 
familiar  watch-chain. 

"I  hope  you  will  prize  the  gift  and  remember  always 
that  there's  nothing  you  can  ask  of  us  at  any  time 
that  we  will  not  do  for  you,  my  dear  boy." 

Big  tears  came  to  the  young  man's  eyes,  and  he 
struggled  with  an  awkward  acknowledgment,  which 
was  relieved  only  by  the  arrival  of  Colonel  Sickles. 

The  Colonel  removed  his  hat,  threw  away  a  cigar 
and  greeted  the  family  with  great  deference,  taking 
Alexander  by  the  hand  and  keeping  it  in  his. 

229 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

All  were  seated  closely  together  at  the  large  table 
in  the  general  office,  but  Alice  found  it  necessary  to 
put  forth  a  great  effort  of  the  will  before  she  could 
proceed. 

"You  must  excuse  me,"  she  explained.  "I  am  only 
trying  to  borrow  a  little  on  a  life-insurance  policy, 
and  it  seems  so  wicked,  almost,  to  consider  such  a 
matter  when  a  noble,  grand,  devoted  husband  is  in 
danger  of  being  put  to  death.  But  don't  let  me 
distress  you.  I  trespass  on  your  time  so  much !  For- 
give me!  I'll  not  lose  myself  again." 

She  told  her  story. 

The  Colonel  became  absorbed. 

"To  whom  is  the  policy  payable?"  he  asked.  "To 
you  or  to  Beck's  estate?" 

"To  the  estate,"  answered  Alice. 

"Bad!"  he  exclaimed.    "Let  me  see  it." 

As  he  ran  it  over  he  gave  expression  to  his  thoughts : 

"No  exception  here,  anywhere,  of  'death  at  the 
hands  of  justice,'  which  is  the  language  of  many  of 
the  newer  forms — nothing!  Good!  You  see,  our 
highest  court  has  held  that  when  the  policy  is  payable 
to  a  wife,  and  nothing  is  said  about  suicide,  the  wife 
can  recover  if  the  insured  kills  himself.  That  comes 
fairly  close  to  this  question.  But  this  policy  is  pay- 

280 


GLOOM 

able  to  the  estate — that's  a  weak  spot.  But  what's 
this !  What's  this !  'After  two  years  this  policy  shall 
be  non-contestable  except  for  the  non-payment  of 
premiums  as  stipulated,  or  for  fraud.'  Let  me  read 
that  again — humph !" 

"Doesn't  that  settle  the  question?"  exclaimed  Alice. 
"The  two  years  passed  long  ago,  the  premiums  are 
paid,  and  there  is  no  fraud." 

The  Colonel  looked  puzzled. 

"I'm  not  quite  sure  on  the  point,"  he  said.  "It 
may  be  that  it  is  merely  the  validity  of  the  policy  as  a 
binding  obligation  which  becomes  incontestable  and 
that  the  contract  expressed  in  the  policy  is  not 
affected  by  this  provision.  The  question  of  public 
policy  enters  into  all  these  insurance  problems  and 
may  control  in  spite  of  this  clause  or  may  define  its 
meaning.  You  see,  the  case  is  not  simple — too  techni- 
cal for  you  to  worry  over.  You  don't  want  to  get  a 
lawyer  to  worry  for  you  and  then  worry  yourself, 
little  woman." 

Alice  was  adrift.  So  many  words  and  nothing 
tangible ! 

"Well,  your  impression  is  favorable,  Colonel?"  she 
pleaded,  as  she  stroked  Alexander's  hair. 

"Yes,  on  the  whole,  but  I  don't  want  to  encourage 

231 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

you  too  much.  Those  people  have  been  investigating 
this,  of  course,  and  they  may  have  good  reasons  for 
their  position.  It's  their  business,  and  they  keep 
posted.  I  will  have  to  look  it  up  myself  and  talk 
with  those  sharks  at  the  insurance  office.  But  it's  no 
use  bothering  with  this  question  now.  The  loaning 
company  won't  lend  the  money,  and  it's  certain  no  one 
else  will — it's  no  use!  You'll  have  to  make  the  best 
of  it.  However,  I  will  look  into  it.  If  I  don't  you'll 
worry  about  it — can't  help  it!  We  might  as  well 
know  where  we  stand,  and  then,  if  they  have  us,  we'll 
keep  it  to  ourselves — no  use  distressing  your  husband 
with  a  knowledge  of  such  things  since  we  can't  change 
them." 

After  a  few  days  the  Colonel  wrote  that  the  insur- 
ance question  was  doubtful.  Should  all  go  wrong  with 
Beckwith  no  recovery  could  be  had  on  the  policy 
except  at  the  end  of  a  lawsuit,  with  the  chances 
against  recovery. 

Meanwhile  the  homestead  mortgage  became  due, 
and  it  could  not  be  refunded.  No  avenue  was  now 
open  but  to  sell  the  property.  But  the  stigma  which 
Beckwith's  fate  had  placed  upon  the  occupants  rested 
also  on  the  house,  and  no  one  would  buy  it  at  a  price 
in  excess  of  the  mortgage. 

232 


GLOOM 

The  sense  of  this  last  misfortune  was  to  Alice  like 
a  touch  of  cold  marble  at  night,  and  it  froze  for  a 
time  her  energy  and  her  hope. 

She  was  once  more  a  little  mendicant. 


233 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
THE  STRUGGLE 

Music  is  God's  best  gift  to  man — the  only   art  of  heaven 
given  to  earth,  the  only  art  of  earth  that  we  take  to  heaven. 

— Charles  W.  London. 


Colonel  made  haste  to  dispel  the  gloom, 
•*-  He  had  a  conference  with  the  owner  of  the 
homestead  encumbrance.  What  magic  wand  he  waved 
Alice  did  not  know,  but  the  man  agreed  not  only  to 
carry  the  mortgage,  but  the  interest  as  well,  until 
Beckwith's  fate  should  be  finally  decided.  The  Colonel 
reported  the  news  and  added  a  sentence  of  cheer:  "I 
have  been  going  over  the  accounts  of  the  trial,"  he 
wrote.  "I  find  a  surplus  in  my  hands  of  $700  and 
take  the  greatest  satisfaction  in  enclosing  my  check 
for  the  amount." 

Mother  and  daughter  discussed  this  message  with 
its  belated  enclosure.  The  Colonel  had  not  seen  fit 
to  send  a  copy  of  the  account,  but  it  was  impossible 
that  more  was  due,  and  if  there  were  it  would  not  be 
demanded.  Alice  noted  that  the  check  was  for  an 
even  sum  and  that  it  came  when  the  family  credit 
was  strained  to  the  very  limit.  In  all  the  time  that 

234 


THE     STRUGGLE 

had  passed  this  large  credit  had  not  been  mentioned 
before!  Had  it  been  held  in  reserve?  Or  had  the 
Italians  raised  another  fund  which  was  now  being 
covertly  forwarded?  It  did  not  matter.  The  letter 
was  so  worded  that  they  could  not  with  any  grace 
do  more  or  less  than  accept  the  remittance. 

Alice  now  went  happily  to  the  task  she  had  long 
before  resolved  to  undertake  when  it  should  be  neces- 
sary. She  had  enough  strength,  she  believed,  to  take 
up  the  teaching  of  music.  Thereby  her  piano  would 
be  saved,  and  she  loved  it  as  if  it  were  a  thing  of 
life. 

There  were,  of  course,  difficulties  to  be  surmounted. 
New  methods  were  in  vogue;  the  community  had 
become  more  critical;  and  she  did  not  know  in  what 
way  to  procure  pupils. 

The  first  obstacles  were  not  serious.  She  remem- 
bered the  manner  of  her  own  instruction  and  could 
use  it  as  a  guide.  There  was  at  hand  the  small  musical 
library  which  Beckwith  had  given  her.  She  had  the 
advantage  of  her  inborn  love  of  music,  as  much  a 
part  of  her  as  the  gentleness  of  her  nature.  And 
her  pupils  would  not  need  advanced  instruction. 

"But  the  pupils!"  she  asked  herself.  "How  am  I 
to  get  the  pupils?" 

235 


THE    UPAS     TREE 

She  sought  the  aid  of  the  Rector,  who  wrote  letters 
recommending  her  highly  to  various  members  of  his 
flock,  although  he  knew  little  of  music  and  less  of  her 
qualifications.  He  repented  that  night  and  prayed 
to  be  forgiven — an  unnecessary  vexation  of  spirit, 
for  his  efforts  did  not  procure  a  single  pupil. 

Alice  had  gone  to  the  expense  of  having  her  long- 
neglected  piano  put  in  order.  Now  she  feared  that 
her  plans  would  have  to  be  abandoned. 

Presently  the  Rector  sent  .his  daughter  to  the  new 
music  teacher.  He  could  not  afford  such  a  luxury, 
and  Alice  felt  guilty  after  each  lesson  when  she  took 
the  dollar  of  her  little  pupil;  but  this  feeling  grad- 
ually disappeared  as  she  found  how  trying  was  her 
task. 

Soon  another  young  miss  applied  for  instruction; 
and  then  others,  until  she  had  all  the  pupils  she  could 
manage.  They  were  satisfied  with  her  method  and 
brought  her  flowers  and  fruit  and  loving  messages. 
They  lightened  her  load  and  lighted  her  way. 

In  time  her  followers  changed  to  those  somewhat 
more  mature,  and  her  limited  reputation  grew.  She 
was  now  supporting  the  family  and,  as  she  said, 
"facing  the  music." 

She  stood  the  strain  well  and  was  absorbed  in  the 

236 


THE     STRUGGLE 

work.  She  would  have  been  resigned  no  matter  what 
toil  she  might  have  chosen,  but  in  the  field  of  music 
there  was  nothing  so  taxing  that  she  did  not  enjoy  it. 
Housekeeping  cares  and  the  birth  of  Alexander  had 
estranged  her  from  her  piano,  but  now  that  circum- 
stances compelled  a  reconciliation,  she  pursued  her 
music  more  industriously,  more  intelligently  and, 
forsooth,  more  profitably  than  before. 

How  great  a  boon  it  was  to  her!  It  now  afforded 
the  only  means  of  relieving  extreme  want.  It  had 
always  been  a  comfort,  and  among  the  great  joys  of 
her  life  she  counted  those  occasions  when  she  was 
lifted  on  the  wings  of  melody  out  of  the  world.  Many 
a  musical  treat  which  she  thought  would  produce  this 
effect  had  failed  her;  on  the  other  hand,  she  had 
experienced  it  not  infrequently  on  occasions  of  little 
importance;  and  when  she  most  yearned  for  it  she 
was  least  likely  to  be  gratified.  The  secret  of  these 
sensations,  and  of  her  musical  talent  as  well,  lay 
deeply  hidden  within  herself. 

This  music  of  the  inner  nature  she  cultivated  in 
her  pupils. 

"Don't  play  with  your  arms,"  she  would  say. 
"Forget  that  you  have  hands.  Forget  yourself. 
Try  to  conceal  the  technic.  Let  the  music  flew  out 

237 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

of  your  finger  tips  as  if  it  were  slipping  away  from 
you." 

She  would  often  restrain  a  vigorous  player: 

"My  dear,  you  must  treat  the  piano  kindly.  You 
have  no  grudge  against  it.  You  mustn't  slap  and 
pound  it.  If  you  do,  it  may  snap  at  you  and  bite 
you  with  its  wide,  grinning  jaws.  Learn  to  love  it. 
If  you  must  punish  it,  be  as  gentle  as  possible.  Peo- 
ple will  never  be  in  sympathy  with  your  music  if 
they  see  you  abuse  your  piano." 

Thus,  day  by  day,  she  taught  the  beautiful  rather 
than  the  brilliant,  feeling  that  such  instruction 
imbedded  itself  in  the  characters  of  the  pupils  and 
strengthened  the  womanly  side  of  their  natures. 

Alice  sometimes  lamented  that  so  few  were  con- 
cerned as  to  her  fate,  but  she  accepted  the  situation 
without  bitterness.  Some  avoided  the  Miller  home 
because  a  visit  would  be  awkward  or  dolorous;  some 
remained  away  for  fear  they  would  be  asked  to  assist 
in  supporting  the  family ;  a  few  postponed  their  calls 
from  day  to  day,  making  it  less  and  less  easy  to 
muster  the  necessary  courage;  and  she  was  aware 
that  there  were  many  who  would  not  go  to  the  house 
of  a  man  condemned  to  be  hanged. 

Of  her  girl  friends,  those  living  in  the  city  were 

238 


THE     STRUGGLE 

married,  and  in  so  large  a  community  they  had  drifted 
from  her.  She  had  little  hope  of  seeing  much  of 
them,  now  that  she  was  a  victim  of  public  prejudice, 
but  occasionally  was  gratified  by  some  attention.  She 
realized  their  position :  they  still  loved  her,  but  owing 
to  her  poverty  and  the  natural  aversion  which  their 
friends  felt  toward  a  murderer's  family,  any  extended 
companionship  was  impossible. 

With  each  passing  month  Alice  and  the  mother 
had  been  growing  more  alike,  as  the  impressionable 
do  when  constantly  associated.  This  intermolding 
was  manifesting  itself  in  physiognomy  as  well  as  man- 
ner. Both  were  conscious  of  it,  and  they  reveled  in 
its  enjoyment.  One  day  Alice  returned  in  the  drip- 
ping rain  from  the  unveiling  of  Bartholdi's  statue 
of  Liberty.  She  ran  into  the  house,  took  Mrs.  Mil- 
ler's head  between  her  hands,  kissed  her  and  exclaimed : 

"I  have  just  heard  the  sweetest  compliment  I  ever 
had.  I  was  told  I  was  you  in  miniature." 

She  allowed  no  time  for  comment.  Seating  her- 
self at  the  piano,  she  played  the  Marseillaise  Hymn, 
which  had  been  a  feature  of  the  dedicatory  exercises 
on  two  continents,  and  then  described  the  unveiling. 
From  the  first  she  had  taken  great  interest  in  the 
project  of  erecting  this  statue.  It  had  its  pet  name, 

239 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

too.  Learning  that  the  sculptor  had  taken  his  mother 
for  the  model,  Alice  christened  it  "Lady  B.,"  and  she 
insisted  that  it  should  be  called  "Love  Enlightening 
the  World."  This  was  partly  because  of  a  shadowy 
recollection  that  the  early  name  of  Bedloe's  Island, 
upon  which  it  stands,  was  Love  Island ;  partly  because 
the  protracted  toil  of  its  creator  was  a  pure  labor  of 
love,  but  mainly  for  the  reason  that  she  never  thought 
of  the  noble  monument  without  dwelling  more  upon 
the  son's  love  which  prompted  him  to  immortalize  his 
mother  than  of  the  blessings  of  liberty  which  it  was 
intended  to  typify. 


240 


CHAPTER  XXV 
THE  PATHS  OF  PREJUDICE 

Then  swelled  the  organ;    up  through  choir  and  nave 
The  music  trembled  with  an  inward  thrill 

Of  bliss  at  its  own  grandeur;    wave  on  wave 
Its  flood  of  mellow  thunder  rose,  until 

The  hushed  air  shivered  with  the  throb  it  gave. 
Then,  poising  for  a  moment,  it  stood  still, 

And  sank  and  rose  again,  to  burst  in  spray 

That  wandered  into  silence  far  away.  —  Lowell. 

That  strain  again;  —  it  had  a  dying  fall: 
Oh,  it  came  o'er  my  ear  like  the  sweet  south, 
That  breathes  upon  a  bank  of  violets. 

—  Shakespeare. 

Short  swallow-flights  of  song,  that  dip 
Their  wings  in  tears,  and  skim  away. 

—  Tennyson. 


A  LICE  began  to  fail  in  strength.  A  temporary 
enforced  cessation  of  her  teaching  rapidly 
brought  financial  troubles  to  the  surface  again,  and 
she  sought  the  advice  of  the  Colonel.  He  solved  the 
problem  by  collecting  a  bill  of  Beckwith's  for  law- 
yer's services,  amounting  to  $300,  which  he  remitted 
without  deduction.  To  acknowledge  the  favor  Alice 
made  a  special  trip  to  the  office  and  on  her  way  home 

241 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

drifted  out  of  her  path  into  one  of  the  poorer  quarters 
of  the  city. 

She  looked  about  her.  An  elevated  railway  sta- 
tion was  not  far  distant,  and  toward  it  she  directed 
her  tired  steps.  Strains  of  familiar  music  greeted  her 
through  the  open  windows  of  a  small  old  house  within 
a  church  enclosure,  evidently  doomed  to  early  destruc- 
tion. A  number  of  men  and  women  were  singing  to 
the  accompaniment  of  a  cheap  and  worn  piano,  and 
above  the  rest  rang  a  voice  of  great  richness. 

Alice  slowly  passed  the  house.  But  she  could  not 
relinquish  the  treat,  and  walked  back  again. 

The  wonderful  voice,  soaring  like  a  bird,  trilling 
and  seeming  to  flit  from  branch  to  branch  as  it 
skipped  from  note  to  note,  lifted  Alice  from  earth. 

She  knew  not  where  she  was  and  was  transported 
into  a  musical  wonderland. 

The  spell  was  soon  broken.  She  found  herself 
opposite  the  doorway,  and  there  a  small  woman  was 
standing  whose  face  told  the  story  of  a  hard  struggle. 

"Will  the  lady  come  in?"  the  woman  queried  with 
a  rippling  Italian  accent. 

Still  in  a  reverie,  Alice  exclaimed  as  she  entered 
the  door: 

"You  will  sing  again,  I  hope." 

242 


THE     PATHS     OF     PREJUDICE 

"Oh,  yes,  madame!  This  is  my  husband,  Signer 
Timponi." 

The  man  made  a  low  bow. 

"Welcome,  lady,"  he  said.  "These  are  my  pupils 
— Miss  Bell,  Miss  Brandt,  Miss  Mary  Brandt."  He 
called  the  names  of  the  two  men  who  were  present,  but 
Alice  did  not  understand  them. 

"I  am  the  teacher.     We  are  practicing." 

"The  Stabat  Mater?" 

"Ah!  you  know  it,  madame!  You  want  to  hear 
it  again?  You  like  the  Stabat  Mater?" 

"Yes.     I  love  it." 

"We  sing  it  in  the  *  church,"  he  said,  as  he  looked 
through  the  window  at  the  near-by  spires.  "We  sing 
it  next  Sunday." 

"He  means  a  week  from  Sunday,"  interjected  his 
wife  in  a  hesitating  way.  She,  of  the  two  evidently 
the  weaker  nature,  had  retreated  to  the  other  side  of 
the  piano. 

"At  the  morning  service,  I  presume?"  queried 
Alice,  expecting  to  take  advantage  of  the  suggestion. 

"No,  in  the  evening,  madame!" 

Alice  reflected  a  moment.  Perhaps  she  would  not 
be  able  to  go !  She  smiled  as  she  turned  to  the 
teacher : 

243 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"But  you  will  practice  it  now,  will  you  not?" 

"Certain,  madame!     Certain!    For  you" 

His  wife  addressed  Alice  softly: 

"You  excuse  me — I  mark  the  time." 

The  seven  gathered  about  the  piano. 

While  they  were  making  preparations  Alice  looked 
about  her.  The  room  was  bare  except  for  the  rickety 
rocking-chair  in  which  she  sat,  two  other  chairs,  a 
plain  table  and  the  piano.  She  glanced  at  the  woman. 
It  seemed  impossible  that  so  frail  a  body  should  con- 
tain a  voice  so  glorious.  Her  chest  seemed  flat;  she 
looked  weak  and  worn,  and  black  circles  shadowed  her 
eyes.  Her  neck  and  mouth  were  small.  While  there 
was  no  outward  suggestion  of  power,  as  the  woman 
sang  Alice  marveled  at  the  manner  in  which  she  used 
her  voice.  For  every  note  she  fashioned  her  mouth, 
adjusted  her  throat,  pitched  her  head,  posed  her  fig- 
ure, to  produce  the  fullest,  richest  and  sweetest  tone 
— indisputable  evidence  of  skillful  and  constant  train- 
ing. Yet  the  real  charm  of  the  voice  was  a  secret, 
secure  under  Nature's  lock  and  key.  It  was  the  per- 
sonality of  the  singer  transmuted  into  her  singing — 
the  soul  of  the  voice — the  "gloria,"  as  Alice  called  it. 

The  musicians  became  absorbed  in  their  work,  and 
Alice  no  longer  noticed  Signor  Timponi — ceased  to 

244 


THE    PATHS    OF    PREJUDICE 

realize  the  presence  of  the  singers — drank  the  melody 
— and  awaited  the  Inflammatus.  When  this  was  sung 
she  perceived  how  carefully  the  art  of  the  com- 
poser was  supplemented  by  the  skill  of  the  teacher. 
As  the  single  voice  alternated  with  the  chorus,  and 
the  sound  gradually  swelled  and  rose  to  the  brilliant 
climax,  and  the  singer  took  and  held  the  high  C  easily 
and  clearly  above  the  other  voices  in  their  grand  vol- 
ume of  harmony — then  Alice  lost  herself  completely, 
and  her  soul  was  lifted  into  the  sublime.  She  heard 
the  song  of  birds,  the  caroling  of  angels,  amid  a  fra- 
grance ineffable  of  delicate  flowers.  She  closed  her 
eyes  in  an  unknown,  enchanted  land  with  lakes  of 
crystal  and  hills  brilliant  with  verdure,  canopied  with 
clouds  of  soft  blue  and  pure  white.  Her  hand  passed 
over  a  velvet  of  texture  so  fine  that  she  was  thrilled 
with  delight.  And  her  lips  were  bathed  in  an  elysian 
dew.  She  was  in  the  realm  of  ecstasy. 

The  music  ceased. 

She  had  found  a  nepenthe  for  her  troubles,  and  the 
return  to  a  care-laden  world  was  reluctant.  She  could 
find  only  one  word: 

"Beautiful!" 

"Madame  is  a  musician  herself?"  the  teacher  asked, 
perceiving  her  exaltation. 

245 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"No,  hardly !"  she  replied.     "I  play— a  little." 

"Rossini  no  friend  of  the  piano,  madame!  He 
drive  it  out  of  the  orchestra!  You  never  hear  the 
Stdbat  Mater  with  the  orchestra?" 

Alice  shook  her  head. 

"No!  Ah!  It  raise  you  off  your  feet.  Excuse 
me — you  want  to  ask  me  something?" 

"I  merely  wished  to  be  sure  who  taught  your  wife 
to  sing?" 

"Myself,"  he  replied,  proudly. 

"I  thought  so.  It  must  be  a  great  satisfaction  to 
both  of  you.  Have  you  been  in  America  long?" 

"Oh,  yes,  madame.  Seven  years.  We  come  with 
the  opera.  We  lose  our  money.  We  have  to  stay." 

"You  would  like  to  go  back,  then?" 

"Yes — some  day." 

"Pretty  soon !"  interrupted  the  wife. 

Alice  noted  that  the  woman's  voice  was  singularly 
sweet  even  in  conversation. 

The  picture  of  these  castaways  struggling  upward 
together  among  a  strange  people  was  fascinating  as 
well  as  touching,  and  she  regretted  to  leave.  Indeed, 
she  dreaded  to  take  up  again  her  own  burden.  Some 
day  she  might  not  be  any  better  off  than  these  exiles 
from  their  sunny  land.  But  she  put  away  the 

246 


THE     PATHS     OF     PREJUDICE 

thought  as  quickly  as  it  came,  took  the  singer  affec- 
tionately by  the  hand  and  made  a  parting  bow  to  the 
others. 

Each  homeward  step  increased  a  longing  for  her 
music.  She  quickened  her  pace  and  was  soon  seated 
at  her  piano.  Over  the  keys  her  fingers  glided  without 
effort,  and  she  drifted  in  rhapsody,  playing  her  best- 
loved  selections,  dropping  from  one  into  the  other 
— the  Inflammatus,  which  above  everything  rang  in 
her  ears,  Sodermann's  Swedish  Wedding  March,  with 
its  sacred  suggestion,  the  soft  notes  of  Braga's  Angel's 
Serenade,  Arditi's  L' Ingenue,  then  very  popular,  the 
splendid  march  from  Tannhduser,  and  the  catchy 
Spanish  dances  of  Moszkowski.  Changing  moods 
fitted  into  Henry  Parker's  Jerusalem,  her  cherished 
baritone  solo,  and  Bradsky's  Du  bist  mein  Alles,  her 
pet  song  for  the  alto.  She  changed  to  Gounod,  who 
set  to  music  the  words  of  Victor  Hugo :  Chant ez,  Riez, 
Dormez.  The  song  seemed  complete,  for  she  was 
fond  of  both  music  and  composer  and  pleased  with 
the  dainty  words  of  her  favorite  author 

She  stopped  to  rest,  but  only  for  a  moment,  The 
impulse  of  her  most  recent  experience,  which  had 
lifted  her  out  of  her  sorrows,  she  was  unwilling  to 
release.  Her  fingers  again  touched  the  keys  and 

247 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

bounded  into  Trovatore — "Ah!  I  have  sighed  to  rest 
me."  But  even  these  selections  did  not  fully  satisfy 
the  longing  within  her.  She  gave  herself  to  impro- 
vising and  ran  the  gamut  of  her  tossing  emotions. 
It  was  an  easy  transition  to  the  Spring  Song.  Tears 
wandered  down  her  cheeks.  The  tenderness,  the 
pathos,  the  inspiration,  drew  the  mother  to  her  side. 
As  the  last  note  was  struck  a  loving  hand  was  upon 
her  shoulder.  She  drew  the  hand  to  her  lips  and 
caressed  it,  but  turned  away  her  face. 

A  thought — a  hope — which  the  Italian  singer  had 
awakened  would  not  leave  her.  Alexander  was  in  his 
eleventh  year  and  had  developed  beyond  his  age. 
He  had  inherited  his  mother's  musical  nature  to  a 
marked  degree  and  had  a  rare — a  very  rare — voice. 
Alice  was  training  it  as  well  as  she  could,  but  she 
had  not  the  vitality  to  continue  the  instruction  and 
her  teaching  at  the  same  time.  Oh,  if  he  could  be- 
come a  pupil  of  Signer  Timponi!  The  boy  was 
young,  but  she  knew  that  most  musicians  of  note  had 
begun  their  studies  very  early  in  life.  It  was  a 
dream !  But  that  in  some  way  it  should  be  made  pos- 
sible for  Alexander  to  secure  ordinary  voice  culture 
seemed  not  too  much  to  hope. 

The  faithful  Rector,  investigating  the  growth  of  the 

248 


THE     PATHS     OF     PREJUDICE 

church,  had  become  convinced  that  it  expanded  least 
in  those  parts  of  the  country  where  ritualism  was 
rampant,  and  he  looked  with  no  favor  upon  many  of 
the  prevalent  innovations  of  the  time,  but  he  had  been 
finally  persuaded  to  gratify  the  almost  unanimous 
wish  of  the  congregation  for  a  boy  choir,  on  the 
ground  that  it  would  be  helpful  to  the  boys.  He 
invited  Alexander  to  become  a  member.  The  boy's 
voice  was  so  clear  and  sweet  that  he  was  soon  assigned 
a  solo;  then  a  number  more  difficult  and  with  some 
"embroidery,"  as  Alice  termed  it.  Before  long  he 
became  the  regular  soloist,  and  the  family  ventured 
to  church  and  listened  with  a  pathetic  satisfaction,  for 
it  was  the  only  thing  in  their  lives  which  resembled 


Even  under  the  adverse  conditions  Alice's  pride 
became  involved.  She  induced  the  choirmaster  to 
assign  to  Alexander  the  song  of  Handel,  Angels 
Ever  Bright  and  Fair,  and  took  the  lad  for  coach- 
ing to  Signer  Timponi.  She  attended  the  rehearsal 
and  easily  foresaw  that  he  would  create  a  furore  on 
Sunday. 

When  the  morning  arrived  the  boys  were  jostling 
one  another  in  the  robing-room,  tempered  or  aggra- 
vated by  their  little  attractions  and  antagonisms. 

249 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

Alexander  was  shoved  about  more  than  usually,  for 
jealousy  was  tormenting  them.  He  resented  a  vicious 
push,  and  then  it  developed  that  in  his  excitement 
over  the  prospective  solo  he  had  put  on  the  robe  of 
another  lad. 

"You'll  come  to  a  bad  end,"  taunted  the  boy  in 
front. 

"Your  f  ather'll  hang,  and  you,  too !"  added  one  at 
his  right. 

Another  boy  jostled  him  roughly. 

One  of  the  men  of  the  choir  interfered,  but  Alex- 
ander flipped  off  his  robe  and  darted  through  the 
side  door. 

For  a  week  the  Rector  pleaded;  the  choirmaster 
promised  that  Alexander  should  be  thoroughly  edu- 
cated in  music  if  he  would  return;  he  should  even 
be  placed  under  the  instruction  of  Signor  Timponi. 
But  it  was  to  no  purpose :  nothing  moved  the  boy. 

To  make  matters  worse,  Alexander  encountered  a 
similar  experience  in  the  public  school  and  refused 
to  go  on  with  his  studies.  This  last  affliction  seemed 
unbearable,  but  Alice  soon  rose  above  the  submerg- 
ing sense  of  disappointment  and  injustice,  answered 
various  advertisements  and  visited  many  of  the  busi- 
ness houses,  never  faltering  nor  tiring  in  spirit  and 

250 


THE     PATHS     OF     PREJUDICE 

never  complaining,  determined  to  secure  Alexander  a 
position.  Employment  was  found  at  last,  and  he  was 
installed  with  an  earnest  admonition  not  to  fail  after 
all  her  care  and  trouble. 

It  was  a  pittance  that  he  received,  but  he  was  started 
on  the  way  to  self-support,  and,  if  nothing  else  had 
been  gained,  he  was  fairly  safe  from  the  attacks  of 
other  boys. 

For  a  time  Alice  spent  a  part  of  each  evening 
assisting  him  with  his  voice,  but  it  was  a  great  strain. 
Her  lessening  strength  was  more  than  taxed  by  his 
broken  spirit.  It  was  a  double  burden,  too  heavy  to 
be  borne  for  a  long  journey,  and  it  was  finally  cast 
off. 


251 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
RETROSPECT 

Age  steals  upon  us  like  a  snowstorm  in  the  night; — 
How  drear  Life's  landscape  now.  — Carleton. 

* 

/COLONEL  SICKLES  had  arrived  at  that  period 
^^  of  life  when  prudence  demands  special  care  of 
the  physical  machinery.  The  severe  sickness  which 
he  had  fabricated  to  gain  delay  from  the  District 
Attorney  came  on  in  truth  with  a  rush,  and  he  turned 
over  to  his  clerk  much  of  the  work  of  the  office. 
George,  now  familiar  with  ordinary  court  procedure 
and  accustomed  to  the  hard  work  of  a  lawyer  in  active 
practice,  was  making  up  for  lack  of  early  oppor- 
tunities by  attendance  at  the  night  schools,  supple- 
mented by  a  laborious  evening  course  of  general  read- 
ing. He  studied,  also,  critically  and  habitually,  after 
his  day's  work,  the  decisions  of  the  courts  of  his  own 
State  as  fast  as  they  appeared  in  print. 

He  had  the  entire  management  of  the  office,  and 
many  of  the  clients  consulted  him  freely  and  with 

252 


RETROSPECT 

confidence.  As  he  was  given  more  responsibility  he 
assigned  to  himself  the  task  of  urging  the  Colonel  to 
dispatch  business.  Proscrastination,  the  besetting 
sin  of  the  profession,  had  its  hold  upon  the  employer, 
and  it  was  of  great  service  to  have  a  clerk  who  would 
constantly  watch  the  cases  and  prod  him  into  keep- 
ing them  up  to  date. 

The  Colonel's  physician  had  recommended  with 
insistence  a  sea  voyage.  Haste  was  necessary  that  he 
might  return  before  the  Court  of  Appeals  should  act 
on  Beckwith's  case,  and  he  hurried  off,  leaving  George 
to  take  care  of  his  practice.  For  six  weeks  the  Colonel 
remained  on  shipboard,  taking  time  to  stop  at  some 
of  the  Mediterranean  ports  and  to  run  through  Eng- 
land and  France. 

On  the  day  of  his  return  he  invited  George  to  his 
home,  and  lawyer  and  clerk  spent  the  evening  together. 
There  was  much  to  be  considered,  but  his  trip  had 
been  highly  interesting  and  he  liked  to  talk  about  it. 
Reluctantly  many  affairs  of  the  office  were  given  first 
place  and  then  he  described  entertainingly  some  of 
the  incidents  of  his  vacation.  Taking  a  fresh  cigar, 
he  smiled  as  he  lighted  it. 

"I  suppose  Dr.  Burke  would  not  approve  of  my 

253 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

smoking  three  cigars  at  a  sitting,  would  he,  George?" 

"The  Doctor  called  at  the  office  today — only  to 
welcome  you  home,  however." 

"Speaking  of  Burke  reminds  me  of  poor  Beck.  I 
ought  not  to  have  consented  to  take  that  case.  My 
powers  were  on  the  wane,  and  I  should  have  realized 
it — but  we  never  do !" 

"You  ought  not  to  reproach  yourself,"  said  George. 
"If  a  lawyer  defends  forty-odd  capital  cases  and  has 
only  one  death  sentence,  he  cannot  complain — and  the 
conviction  is  not  yet  affirmed." 

"But  it  will  be,"  interposed  the  Colonel.  "The 
result  was  a  heavy  blow  to  me,  but  I've  felt  a  little 
easier  since  I  gave  the  women  my  fee — the  seven  hun- 
dred dollars,  you  remember.  My  boy,  I  believe  I'll 
make  a  confession  to  you!" 

"And  then  I  have  one  to  make  to  you!" 

The  Colonel  stared  in  an  absent-minded  way  and 
continued : 

"I  would  have  had  a  chance  to  win  that  case  if  my 
plans  had  not  miscarried.  You  remember  Wilson  of 
Philadelphia?" 

"Certainly." 

"You  know,  he  and  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
exchanging  favors.  Well,  I  asked  him  to  send  over 

254 


RETROSPECT 

a  sleuth — I  thought  a  New  Yorker  might  be  known 
to  the  State's  detectives.  I  told  him  I  wanted  an 
Apollo — who  could  make  love.  He  filled  the  order 
perfectly,  and  I  instructed  my  man  to  pay  court  to 
the  young  woman,  the  confidential  stenographer  of 
the  District  Attorney.  He  made  rapid  headway,  so 
much  so  that  the  girl  began  to  be  really  interested, 
and  this  undid  me,  for  she  slacked  her  work  or  con- 
fided in  somebody — at  all  events  her  employer  put 
one  of  his  detectives  on  the  track  of  the  girl  and  soon 
uncovered  the  plot — just  as  my  man  was  on  the  eve 
of  succeeding.  If  there  had  been  money  enough  I'd 
have  got  inside  information  some  other  way,  but  we 
could  not  raise  the  wind.  Everything  went  wrong  in 
that  case.  And  it  all  came  with  such  smashing  force 
upon  the  women,  particularly  Alice !  I  remember  the 
last  time  I  saw  her  and  the  pity  that  entered  my 
heart  as  I  thought  how  wifely  she  is,  and  yet  how 
probable  that  she  is  destined  to  spend  her  life  alone, 
marked  as  a  murderer's  widow.  I  recall  her  dress  and 
hat  and  all.  That  locket!  George,  did  you  ever 
reflect  on  the  graceful  provision  of  nature  which 
preserves  the  human  hair,  that  we  may  keep  one 
imperishable  personal  memento  of  our  friends?" 
"Never  in  that  way,"  replied  George  abstractedly. 

255 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

The  Colonel  was  looking  into  space.  Turning  in 
his  chair,  he  threw  one  leg  over  the  other. 

"Well,  George,  let's  have  your  confession.  What 
is  it?" 

"Nothing  much.  Mr.  Miller  had  a  client  named 
Tower  whom  he  served  in  a  delicate  matter.  I  doubt 
that  there  was  another  lawyer  in  New  York  who  could 
render  such  a  service — no  one  in  a  position  where  he 
could.  I  knew  how  Tower  felt — heard  him  acknowl- 
edge that  he  would  have  been  ruined  but  for  Mr. 
Miller.  So,  when  things  were  darkest,  after  the  trial, 
and  help  most  needed  at  the  house,  on  my  own  respon- 
sibility I  hunted  him  up  and  told  him  the  situation. 
He  lives  like  a  nabob  in  bachelor's  quarters  such  as 
I'll  never  see  again.  He  received  me  graciously, 
gave  a  fine  exhibition  of  royal  manners  and  promised 
to  look  into  the  matter  immediately ;  but  that  was  the 
end  of  it.  How  is  that  for  gratitude !" 

"Not  strange,"  replied  the  Colonel.  "Not  a  bit 
strange.  The  way  of  the  world!  Don't  let  that 
bother  you!" 

He  took  on  a  broad  smile  and  continued : 

"George,  I'm  an  impostor!  Tower  paid  the  ex- 
penses of  that  Philadelphia  sleuth.  He  asked  me  to 
come  to  him  not  long  after  Beck's  arrest — did  not 

256 


RETROSPECT 

want  to  be  seen  in  the  office!  Spoke  of  the  obliga- 
tion you  refer  to — his  surplus  funds  were  limited, 
but  he  would  aid  in  any  specific  way  within  his  means. 
I  suggested  footing  the  bills  for  the  detective,  and 
he  readily  consented  on  condition  that  it  be  kept  a 
secret — so  I'm  telling  it!  Ever  since  then  he  has 
paid,  through  me,  the  interest  on  the  homestead  mort- 
gage, which  quieted  the  owner,  and  we've  let  Shylock 
pass  for  a  philanthropist !  And  Collins  never  paid 
that  three  hundred  dollars — it  was  Tower.  You  were 
a  little  hasty  in  passing  sentence  on  the  man,  although 
he  did  have  a  dread  of  getting  mixed  up  in  the 
'scandal,'  as  he  called  it.  You  see,  I'm  a  wretch !  But 
the  boy — how's  he  getting  on?" 

"He's  at  work." 

"Is  he  sensitive  about  his  father?" 

"Very !  He  seems  ashamed  to  be  seen  anywhere 
except  at  the  store  where  he  works,  and  at  home.  It 
is  pathos  enthroned — the  whole  picture  is  an  appeal !" 

The  Colonel  struck  a  match.  As  he  relighted  his 
cigar  he  exclaimed  between  puffs: 

"You  are  eloquent!  If  I  had  stayed  away  much 
longer  you  would  have  become  invincible." 

He  took  George  by  the  hand  and  exclaimed 
impressively : 

257 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"We  must  do  our  duty  by  the  boy !" 

George  took  to  heart  these  last  words.  He  longed 
to  see  Alexander  well  started  in  life  with  the  promise 
of  a  bright  future.  But  what  could  they  do  for  him 
now?  An  education  was  out  of  the  question.  His 
opportunity  in  music  had  passed.  They  could  help 
him  to  become  a  useful  man,  but  that  was  about  all. 
He  remembered  how  he  had  envied  Alexander  in  his 
babyhood  the  smooth  pathway  that  would  be  made  for 
him.  How  circumstances  had  changed! 

As  he  went  up  the  steps  of  his  home  he  said  to  him- 
self: 

"I'm  glad  I  sent  those  roses !" 


258 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
NINETY-TWO  DAYS 

She  expressed  herself  with  a  purity,  with  a  harmony  and 
prosody  that  made  her  language  like  music,  of  which  the  ear 
could  never  have  enough.  — Rioffe. 


'TVHE  Colonel  was  happy  to  be  again  in  his  office. 
There  he  spent  most  of  his  waking  hours,  and 
he  had  an  affection  for  the  place  not  diminished  by 
his  absence.  He  took  up  his  duties  with  determination, 
but  after  a  few  days  a  feeling  of  languor  took  hold 
of  him. 

He  was  discouraged. 

Evidently  the  ocean  voyage  would  not  prove  of 
lasting  benefit. 

He  called  his  clerk. 

"George,  how  would  the  firm  name  of  *Sickles  & 
Ennis'  strike  you  ?  I  have  Beck's  consent  to  it." 

The  young  lawyer  was  embarrassed.  He  had 
reached  the  goal,  but  he  could  hardly  believe  his 
senses. 

259 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"Nothing  could  please  me  more,  as  you  must  know," 
he  replied  in  an  unsteady  voice. 

"Draw  up  the  papers.  It  shall  be  an  equal  part- 
nership. I  am  old,  and  I  might  as  well  admit  it — to 
you.  There's  no  need  of  standing  at  the  door  and  pro- 
claiming it  to  each  man  who  enters,  but  between  us, 
as  partners,  there  must  be  no  secrets !" 

"Certainly  not,"  said  George,  glad  of  an  oppor- 
tunity to  say  something.  His  heart  was  beating  fast. 
"Certainly  not.  But  you  are  vigorous  and  good  for  a 
generation  yet." 

"Well,"  observed  the  Colonel,  "you  remember  the 
client  who  said  he  wanted  to  get  into  a  business  that 
was  'reasonably  honest'?  I  am  'reasonably*  vigorous. 
But  that's  not  it.  I  don't  intend  to  work  as  hard  as  I 
have.  I  must  take  life  easier — and  let  the  junior 
partner  work." 

"I'm  willing  to!" 

"I  know  you  are,  and  you  work  intelligently.  I've 
a  notion  you  thought  I  might  make  you  an  offer  of 
partnership,  and  with  that  in  view  you  kept  things  in 
such  excellent  condition." 

George  smiled  an  admission. 

"That's  all  right!  You  perceived  the  opening  and 
ought  to  be  rewarded  for  your  foresight.  I  reward 

260 


NINETY-TWO     DAYS 

you,  also,  for  your  loyalty  and  the  faithful  discharge 
of  your  duties.  I've  looked  into  things  carefully  since 
I  came  back,  and  you  have  done  handsomely.  So 
'Sickles  &  Ennis'  it  shall  be!  But  let  me  warn  you. 
Men  do  well  in  adversity;  few  can  stand  prosperity, 
and  fewer  still  power  or  position,  particularly  if  sud- 
denly acquired.  'Be  not  puffed  up !'  To  change  the 
subject:  I've  another  secret  you  ought  to  know — 
now  that  we  are  partners.  You  remember  Hodgkin — 
the  miser — left  Beck  twenty-one  thousand !  Did  it  ever 
strike  you  there  was  something  queer  about  that  odd 
amount  ?  No !  Well,  it  did  me,  the  minute  I  knew  of 
it.  These  are  the  facts:  Twenty  thousand  was  for  a 
secret  purpose  and  the  rest  for  executor's  fees.  The 
old  fox  imposed  on  Beck  an  unwelcome  task  and  then 
used  it  as  a  means  to  beat  him  out  of  most  of  his 
legitimate  fees.  And  Beck  was  so  hard  up  he  had  to 
submit.  I  was  afraid  to  bring  this  out  in  evidence, 
for  he  had  flatly  declined  to  tell  me  what  the  secret 
purpose  was — said  it  involved  the  reputation  of 
another — and  he  insisted  he  would  refuse  to  tell  in 
defiance  of  an  order  of  court,  if  it  came  to  that.  A 
nice  kettle  of  fish!  Two  or  three  times  I  saw  the 
District  Attorney  veering  around  in  that  direction; 
I  managed  to  slip  by,  but  it  was  close  sailing!" 

261 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

The  Colonel  shrugged  his  shoulders,  walked  to  the 
window  and  stood  with  his  hands  jammed  down  in  his 
pockets. 

George  was  writing  a  draft  of  the  partnership 
agreement  when  the  Colonel,  looking  over  his  shoulder, 
rested  his  eyes  on  a  small  piece  of  paper  pasted  on  the 
desk  immediately  in  front  of  him,  upon  which  were 
written  the  words: 


"But  they,  while  their  companions  slept, 
were  toiling  upward  in  the  night." 


A  few  days  later  an  untraceable  report  was  circu- 
lating. 

Alice  flew  to  her  counsel. 

"Have  you  heard  the  rumor,  Colonel?  The  Chief 
Justice  of  the  Court  of  Appeals  is  writing  a  decision 
— or  opinion — in  Beckwith's  favor !" 

"Yes — many  times.  It  is  persistent,  little  woman, 
and  that  makes  me  feel  there  is  some  truth  in  it." 

Soon  afterward  the  Colonel  was  again  justified: 
the  Chief  Justice  did  hand  down  an  opinion,  and  it 
was  favorable  to  the  prisoner — a  dissenting  opinion, 

262 


NINETY-TWO     DAYS 

the  remaining  judges  affirming  the  conviction.  With 
this  defeat  Beckwith's  executorship  and  trusteeship 
collapsed.  At  the  same  time  all  hope  of  obtaining  the 
legacy  dissolved;  nothing  remained  but  the  prospect 
of  empty  court  proceedings  with  an  adverse  result, 
complete  as  well  as  certain. 

But  the  Colonel  was  a  true  lawyer  and  had  not  con- 
tented himself  with  a  single  method  of  procedure. 
Knowing  he  could  not  get  a  pardon,  he  had  been  care- 
fully preparing  an  elaborate  application  to  the  Gov- 
ernor for  a  commutation.  If  the  penalty  could  be 
changed  from  death  to  life  imprisonment,  hope,  at 
least,  would  remain.  This  he  now  presented  and 
pressed  in  person.  He  was  not  unaccompanied,  for 
Alice  had  demanded  the  right  to  be  present. 

The  Colonel  related  to  the  Governor  how  he  and 
his  client  had  believed  before  the  trial  that  they  had 
a  chance  to  secure  at  least  a  disagreement,  with  one 
juror,  possibly  two,  standing  out  for  acquittal,  and 
how  their  belief  had  been  confirmed  in  his  office  imme- 
diately before  Miss  Hodgkin's  visit.  He  minimized 
the  part  he  had  taken  in  prompting  Beckwith's  tardy 
decision  to  reject  the  favorable  juror.  He  rehearsed 
the  statements  made  in  the  written  application,  laying 
stress  upon  a  few  propitious  circumstances  which  had 

263 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

come  to  light  since  the  trial.  His  client  had  been 
duly  convicted,  so  far  as  the  forms  of  the  law  were 
concerned,  but  the  trial  had  not  been  fair  under  any 
proper  standard  of  actual  justice.  The  Judge  had 
been  academically  impartial,  but  wholly  impassive. 
While  the  law  presumed  a  man  innocent  until  proved 
guilty,  the  chill  of  his  personality  had  frozen  the  pre- 
sumption in  the  hearts  of  the  jurors.  The  prosecutor 
had  lived  up  to  the  law  of  procedure,  but  had  shackled 
the  defense  by  the  willful  and  unethical  postponement 
of  damaging  evidence  respecting  the  den.  The  jury 
had  been  hypnotized  by  a  hired  genius  of  irresistible 
power.  Money  had  been  lavishly  expended  in  aid  of 
the  prosecution  and  had  distorted  the  perspective  of 
witnesses,  communicating  an  evil  influence  to  the 
jurors.  The  Court  of  Appeals  was  divided  and  even 
in  its  majority  opinion  had  virtually  admitted  a  doubt. 
These  and  many  other  arguments  were  pressed  with 
great  earnestness  and  plausibility. 

After  the  District  Attorney  had  defended  his  objec- 
tions, the  Colonel  addressed  Alice: 

"The  Governor  will  no  doubt  be  glad  to  hear  from 
you,  Mrs.  Miller,  if  you  desire  to  be  heard." 

A  nod  of  acquiescence  found  Alice  for  the  first  time 
attempting  formal  utterance.  Devotion  to  a  cause 

264 


NINETY-TWO     DAYS 

and  a  heart  wrung  by  terror  and  sorrow  rendered  her 
entirely  forgetful  of  self.  Without  embarrassment 
or  hesitation  she  made  a  fervid  supplication. 

"I  speak  with  confidence," — were  her  closing  words, 
— "the  confidence  inspired  by  a  modest  American 
home  in  which  unselfishness  and  love  are  never  absent. 
Having  no  knowledge  of  the  law,  I  am  able  to  add 
but  little  to  the  words  of  my  staunch  friend,  but  I 
insist  that  a  man  will  reveal  his  true  self  by  his 
daily  acts  and  words,  if  weighed  by  a  woman's  heart 
and  head  and  intuition — even  though  the  woman  have 
the  bias  of  a  mother  or  wife.  For  his  mother,  pros- 
trated in  her  home,  and  for  myself,  I  am  grateful 
for  the  chance  I  have  had  to  again  make  public  our 
belief  in  the  innocence  of  a  devoted  son  and  husband. 
No  matter  what  the  law  may  say,  where  deliberate 
murder  is  charged,  a  noble  character,  manifested  in 
countless  ways  through  many  years,  is  a  complete 
answer  to  any  array  of  circumstances." 

Sensing  that  the  Governor  would  deny  a  commu- 
tation, she  pleaded  for  a  reprieve. 

"There  is  no  need  of  haste:  my  husband  cannot 
escape,  even  if  he  desired  to.  Surely  you,  Governor, 
who  are  able  to  grant  it,  will  not  deny  time!  For 
time  can  tell,  time  will  tell  the  truth — in  some  way. 

265 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

The  faith  of  those  who  come  the  nearest  to  knowing 
is  unshaken,  and  they  ask,  in  the  name  of  mercy, 
that  you  retain  for  a  time  at  least  the  power  to  right 
a  horrible  wrong." 

The  plea  was  brief,  but  the  dramatic  effect  of  the 
supreme  moment,  aided  by  the  music  of  Alice's  voice 
and  the  flutter  of  her  accent,  melted  all  hearts. 

The  feeling  that  dominated  the  Colonel  was  pride. 
He  knew  that  a  crisis  may  work  a  miracle  in  develop- 
ing ability,  but  he  had  never  been  more  surprised  nor 
more  gratified. 

The  Governor  looked  grave,  endeavoring  to  hide 
the  emotions  stirred  within  him  by  this  last  entreaty. 

"I  am  deeply  impressed,"  he  observed,  "with  the 
sturdy  nature  of  a  prisoner  who  would  refuse  the  aid 
of  a  corrupted  juror  in  so  perilous  a  situation.  The 
act  seems  inconsistent  with  guilt.  Still  the  judge  who 
tried  the  case  and  the  prosecutor  are  sure.  I  ought 
not  to  interfere,  but  I  will  grant  a  stay  of  execution 
for  sixty  days." 

Alice  pleaded  again :  "The  time  is  so  short,  Gov- 
ernor. A  little  longer ! — a  little  longer,  Governor ! — 
ninety  days — I  beseech  you! — oh,  don't  deny  it — no 
harm " 

The  Governor  raised  his  hand  and  turned  to  his 

266 


NINETY-TWO     DAYS 

secretary:  "In  justice  to  this  noble  woman  I  will  make 
the  time  ninety  days — ninety-two  days — that  will  make 
the  day  Friday." 

Redoubling  his  exertions,  the  Colonel  tried  in  every 
way  to  unearth  further  evidence  of  innocence. 

Time  passed  quickly  with  Beckwith,  who  was  occu- 
pied with  the  preparation  of  a  long  writing,  and 
George  called  every  day  or  two  with  a  library  book. 

After  his  conviction  the  prisoner  was  held  with  a 
tightening  rein.  Frequent  visits  with  his  family  were 
not  permitted,  nor  was  he  allowed  to  see  them  without 
the  presence  of  a  guard.  But  even  these  meetings 
were  a  blessing. 

The  fatal  day  was  approaching,  and  some  reminder 
of  the  fact  was  not  infrequently  at  hand. 

In  the  cell  adjoining  Beckwith's  was  a  prisoner 
under  sentence  of  death.  This  doomed  man  was  asked 
a  few  hours  before  the  time  set  for  his  execution  if  he 
would  like  to  walk  down  the  corridor.  He  refused  the 
privilege,  saying  he  was  afraid  he  would  take  cold. 
A  convulsive  laugh  escaped  Beckwith,  but  he  checked 
it  and  turned  in  his  bed  with  his  face  to  the  wall. 

An  hour  later  he  overheard  one  of  the  attendants : 

"The  pigeons  are  flying." 

267 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

He  knew  what  was  meant.  For  a  generation  a  flock 
of  pigeons  had  made  their  home  in  the  Tombs,  and  it 
was  one  of  the  superstitions  of  the  place  that  imme- 
diately before  a  hanging  the  birds  would  circle  over 
the  waiting  gallows. 

Beckwith  saw  the  prisoner  go  forth  on  his  last 
journey.  The  click  of  the  mechanism  told  him  the 
exact  moment  of  the  man's  agony.  In  imagination  he 
could  see  the  culprit's  heavy  form  jerked  upward  into 
space.  Then  he  heard  the  body  fall  heavily  to  the  end 
of  the  rope. 


268 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
THE  LETTER 

The  thread  I  held  has  slipped  from  out  my  hand: 
In  this  dark  labyrinth,  without  a  clue, 

Groping  for  guidance,  stricken  blind  I  stand, 
A  helpless  child  that  knows  not  what  to  do. 

— Bayard  Taylor. 


\  DEATH  WATCH  was  guarding  Beckwith. 
•*•  ^  Time  was  becoming  precious.  He  must  now  de- 
termine when  he  should  have  his  last  visit  with  his 
family.  They  would  naturally  desire  to  see  him  at 
the  latest  possible  moment,  but  it  was,  of  course,  out 
of  the  question  that  they  should  be  with  him  at  the 
very  end.  The  morning  of  the  last  day  was  likely  to 
have  about  it  many  signs  of  preparation  with  which  he 
must  not  distress  them.  Pride,  also,  entered  into  even 
this  extreme  situation.  He  could  meet  death  with 
dignity,  but  his  nerves  must  not  be  unstrung  by  a  visit 
on  the  morning  of  the  execution.  This  minor  reason, 
and  the  controlling  consideration  of  shielding  his 
family,  led  him  to  choose  his  last  full  day  on  earth 
for  their  final  farewell. 

They  did  not  remain  long  together.     The  guards 

269 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

spied  upon  them  intently  and  impatiently.  This  was 
intolerable,  but  it  made  the  parting  less  pathetic.  The 
goodbye  was  held  in  check,  for  none  would  add  to  the 
burden  of  the  others.  As  Alice  led  Alexander  away 
Beckwith  noted  that  she  was  able  to  maintain  a  firm 
and  steady  step.  He  was  stifling  with  the  agony  of 
the  hour,  but  sustained  by  the  last  look  of  those 
miraculous  eyes,  and  a  sublime  sense  of  admiration 
came  over  him. 

"Such  is  character!"  he  proclaimed,  and,  inspired 
by  the  thought,  recovered  possession  of  his  will. 

Later  in  the  day  the  Rector  came  to  the  cell  and  read 
the  form  of  prayer  established  for  the  visitation  of 
prisoners. 

Beckwith  joined  in  the  service.  He  knew  in  a  gen- 
eral way  that  such  a  form  was  in  the  prayer-book,  but 
he  had  never  read  it  through. 

As  the  Rector  proceeded  Beckwith  grew  restless  with 
combative  thought. 

The  clergyman  read: 

"  'Lastly,  beloved,  submit  yourself  with  Christian 
resignation  to  the  just  judgment  of  God  which  your 
own  crimes  have  brought  upon  you.' " 

A  signal  of  interruption  crossed  Beckwith's  lips, 
but  it  faded  away. 

270 


THE     LETTER 

Following  the  direction  of  the  church  law,  the  cler- 
gyman now  exhorted  the  doomed  man  to  confess  the 
sin  for  which  he  was  condemned. 

Beckwith  gazed  steadfastly,  with  an  unfathomable 
look,  at  the  man  of  God,  but  gave  no  sign  of  breaking 
silence. 

"A  little  more  insistence  may  penetrate  this  stubborn 
will,"  reasoned  the  Rector,  and  he  renewed  the  exer- 
tions enjoined  upon  him  by  the  rubric;  but  all  that  his 
tongue  would  do  was  to  repeat  dogmatically  what  he 
had  read  before. 

Beckwith  shook  his  head  as  if  to  say,  "Not  now !" 
Touching  his  fingers  to  the  prayer-book,  he  gravely 
asked,  "Can  we  not  go  on  ?" 

The  service  completed,  he  reached  out  his  hand. 

"May  I  see  the  book?"  he  inquired,  and  he  glanced 
over  the  words. 

Then  he  spoke,  emphatically  and  deliberately : 

"I  am  astonished  at  the  language  of  this  service. 
It  assumes  that  because  a  man  is  convicted  he  is  guilty. 
Its  object  is  to  give  comfort,  but  if  the  man  happens 
to  be  innocent  it  only  harrows  or  angers  him.  Listen 
to  this:  'After  you  have  thus  finished  the  course  of  a 
sinful  and  miserable  life  you  shall  appear  before  the 
Judge  of  all  flesh;  who  .  .  .  shall  .  .  .  say, 

271 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

with  a  terrible  voice  of  most  just  judgment,  to  the 
wicked,  Go,  ye  accursed,  into  the  fire  everlasting,  pre- 
pared for  the  devil  and  his  angels.5 ' 

"I  see  the  force  of  what  you  say,"  said  the  Rector, 
meekly,  "but  I  cannot  alter  it.  Human  law  is  founded 
on  divine  law,  and  the  church  assumes  that  human  law 
does  not  err." 

"Then  I  wouldn't  read  the  service,  if  you  will  par- 
don my  saying  so.  It  makes  you  a  paid  servant  of  a 
religious  corporation — a  parson — when  you  ought  to 
be  a  minister.  But  your  premise  is  wrong,  my  friend, 
anyway,  for  the  books  tell  us  that  human  law  is  not 
founded  on  divine  law." 

"I  am  not  prepared  to  argue  the  question,"  was  the 
apologetic  answer.  "In  all  my  ministry  I  have  never 
before  been  called  upon  to  perform  an  office  of  this 
kind." 

"Yes!  The  man  may  not  be  guilty,"  thought  the 
clergyman,  and  resolved  not  to  use  the  service  again, 
but  he  was  not  ready  to  condemn  it  in  the  presence  of 
a  layman — particularly  in  this  case,  for  Beckwith  had 
not  in  words  claimed  to  be  innocent. 

The  errand  of  consolation  was  a  failure. 

The  prisoner  was  lost  in  his  own  reflections,  and  his 
visitor  felt  humbled. 

272 


THE     LETTER 

Presently  Beckwith  relieved  the  situation. 

"I  shall  probably  be  executed,"  he  said,  drawing 
his  shoulders  back  as  if  bracing  for  an  attack.  "I 
certainly  shall,  unless  the  Governor  intervenes.  Are 
you  willing  to  go  with  me  to  my  execution?" 

"I  am  always  ready  to  do  my  duty." 

The  man  was  weak  physically  and  nervously,  and 
dreaded  such  a  voyage  upon  the  waters  of  bitterness. 

"Well,"  observed  Beckwith,  "I  will  spare  you.  You 
would  never  forget  the  ghastly  sight.  And  my  cour- 
age is  ample,  for  in  this  hour,  as  in  every  other  since 
my  wedding  day,  I  have  my  inspiration." 

The  Rector  shuddered.  "I  am  willing  to  go,"  he 
repeated,  "and  I  hope  you  will  not  regard  my  feel- 
ings." 

His  voice  trembled  with  sympathy.  Guilty  or  not, 
the  situation  was  pitiable.  But  he  felt  unequal  to  the 
task,  although  he  would  have  given  his  life  rather  than 
shirk  a  substantial  duty. 

Beckwith  looked  at  him  sadly  and  again  affirmed 
that  he  preferred  to  meet  his  fate  alone. 

The  Rector  left  in  an  uncertain  frame  of  mind.  One 
question  drove  all  else  from  his  thoughts : 

"Is  he  guilty?" 

The  next  morning  George  appeared  with  a  letter, 

273 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

specially  entrusted  to  him  to  make  sure  of  its  early 
delivery,  so  that  there  would  be  ample  time  to  read 
it.  Beckwith  turned  his  back  to  the  bars  and  his 
sentinel  and  read: 


My  Beloved: 

Mother  and  I  are  satisfied  this  evening  with  your  decision 
respecting  to-morrow.  It  seems  cruel  that  we  cannot  be  with 
you  then,  but  if  we  should  it  might  be  more  than  cruel  to  you, 
and  perhaps,  as  you  say,  to  us.  After  all,  it  would  be  but  the 
meeting  and  the  looking  once  again  through  the  eyes  to  the 
soul  of  my  innocent  husband.  We  yet  have  the  free  and  secure 
communion  of  our  hearts,  which  no  cruelty  can  mar.  And  it 
is  all  we  have  left  which  we  can  call  our  own.  Every  other 
sacred  thing  must  have  its  witness — its  spy — its  paid  spy. 
What  is  life  worth  if  it  were  to  continue  thus — to  you,  dearest, 
or  to  me? 

Do  not  worry  about  us.  Our  boy  will  be  our  mainstay,  and 
my  life's  work  shall  be  to  make  him  a  living  testimony  to  the 
innocence  of  his  noble  father.  Soon  he  will  be  a  man.  And 
responsibility,  as  I  have  heard  you  say,  dearest,  is  a  great 
developer.  So  we  may  the  sooner  expect  the  change  in  our 
little  young  giant.  Think  of  the  comfort  he  will  be  to  dear 
mother  and  to  me  as  he  grows  and  pushes  out  into  the  world, 
bearing  manfully  his  burdens  and  being  always  true  to  himself, 
to  his  home  and  to  the  memory  of  his  father.  And  the  nobler 
he  grows  the  more  his  life  will  be  a  complete  vindication  of 
you.  Is  not  this  the  true  philosophy  of  our  affliction! 

You  must  feel  that  this  experience  will  not  embitter  my  life. 
It  might  easily,  if  I  would  permit  it;  but,  remember,  I  have 
firmly  made  up  my  mind,  dearest,  that  I  will  not  allow  myself 
to  be  one  bit  resentful,  but  will  feel  kindly  to  all  the  world. 
Otherwise  I  could  not  cultivate  in  Alexander  that  spirit  of 
humanity  which  would  make  the  extreme  of  misfortunes  like 
ours  impossible. 

274 


THE     LETTER 

So  you  must  think  of  me  as  trying  to  bring  out  the  best 
there  is  in  us,  and  I  am  sure,  with  the  foundations  you  have 
laid,  all  will  go  well. 

And  now,  darlun,  you  have  always  been  fearless,  and  I  know 
you  always  will  be.  Alice  will  be,  too.  If  your  fate  should 
come,  as  it  seems  it  must,  meet  it,  and  I  will  meet  mine,  as 
the  other  martyrs  have  done.  We  should  have  to  separate  in  a 
little  while  anyway.  And  very  shortly  we  will  be  together 
again,  free  and  happy,  with  Mother  and  Alexander,  better 
friends  because  of  our  sorrows.  Meanwhile  remember  our  never 
faltering  faith  in  your  perfect  innocence. 

I  shall  kiss  this  letter  where  it  is  sealed  in  the  belief  that 
you  will  press  it  to  your  own  dear  lips. 

Your  brave  wife, 

ALICE. 

A  card  dropped  from  the  letter.  On  it  were  written 
some  lines  not  unknown  to  Beckwith: 

I  keep  for  thee  the  living  love  of  old, 
And  seek  thy  place  in  Nature,  as  a  child, 

Whose  hand  is  parted  from  his  playmate's  hold, 
Wanders  and  cries  along  a  lonesome  wild. 

Later  that  morning,  close  to  the  river,  due  west 
from  the  Tombs  and  almost  in  sight  of  it,  there  was  a 
gathering  in  the  back  room  of  a  saloon  called  "The 
Wharf,"  a  training-school  for  murderers. 

The  men  threw  dice,  sang  songs,  divided  stolen 
goods,  drank,  and  drank  again. 

They  raised  their  glasses : 

"Here's  to  Miller!     May  he  die  game!" 

275 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

GETHSEMANE 

Soft  on  the  sunset  sky, 

Bright  daylight  closes; 
Leaving,  when  light  doth  die, 
Pale  hues  that  mingling  lie — 

Ashes  of  roses. 

— Elaine  Goodale. 

.    .     .     On  my  day  of  life  the  night  is  falling, 
And  in  the  wind,  from  unsunned  spaces  blown, 

I  hear  far  voices  out  of  darkness  calling 
My  feet  to  paths  unknown. 

— Whittier. 

* 

night  after  the  last  visit  to  the  Tombs  was 
never  to  be  forgotten  by  Alice  or  the  mother. 
All  memories  are  dulled  by  time,  and  even  the  horrors 
of  the  most  hideous  torture  cause  less  of  a  recoil  as 
the  months  pass.  But  in  many  lives  there  is  one  ex- 
perience from  which,  to  the  latest  breath,  memory 
shrinks.  This  night  of  nights  in  the  home  of  the  con- 
demned man  was  rendered  the  more  terrible  by  the 
long  stretch  of  suspense  through  which  the  sufferers 

276 


GETHSEMANE 

had  traveled.  After  the  parting  at  the  jail  and  until 
the  sun  sank  in  the  west  Alice  managed  to  keep  her 
courage.  As  twilight  advanced  hope  departed,  and 
when  darkness  settled  down  despair  took  complete  pos- 
session of  her,  to  be  thrown  aside  only  long  enough  to 
write  the  farewell  letter.  Then  Nature,  ever  prepared 
for  unusual  demands,  asserted  herself,  and  Alice  sank 
in  her  bed  exhausted.  She  rested,  but  her  mind  found 
no  repose.  The  cherished  Colonial  clock  turned  into  a 
vindictive  enemy  as  it  ticked  away  its  owner's  life. 
She  noted  each  swing  of  the  pendulum.  Every  stroke 
of  the  hour  seemed  a  blow  upon  her  heart.  It  would 
have  brought  enough  for  a  few  days'  subsistence — 
why  had  she  not  sold  it  when  necessity  was  speaking 
in  tones  of  command! 

In  her  semi-slumber  the  picture  of  her  husband, 
waiting  alone  and  watching  in  silence,  caused  a  shud- 
der that  awakened  her  with  a  jolt.  A  sad  smile  crossed 
her  lips.  When  the  time  of  parting  had  arrived,  Beck- 
with  had  been  compelled  to  give  to  mother  or  wife  the 
last  kiss.  He  had  freely  made  the  choice.  All  the 
tenderness  of  maternal  care  for  so  many  years  had 
not  outweighed  the  love  for  his  little  wife,  and  she 
had  been  the  last  to  touch  his  lips. 

She  fell  into  another  doze,  to  be  again  aroused  by 

277 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

the  relentless  clock.  The  dreaded  Friday  was  at  hand ; 
the  morning  was  passing,  but  she  could  not  leave  her 
bed  nor  comfort  the  mother,  as  she  had  resolutely 
determined  to  do.  As  noon  approached  the  glassy 
look  in  her  eyes  changed  to  a  fixed  stare. 

Mrs.  Miller  mortally  dreaded  a  recurrence  of  the 
malady  which  had  threatened  her  daughter's  reason. 
She  desired  to  respect  the  wish  that  they  should  be 
alone,  even  to  the  point  of  not  calling  a  physician,  but 
responsibility  made  her  hesitate. 

The  hands  of  the  clock  moved  on  toward  twelve. 

Still  she  hesitated. 

With  her  indecision  the  big  timepiece  had  no  sym- 
pathy. 

It  ticked  on. 

A  quarter  to  twelve ! 

Starting  suddenly,  Alice  frightened  Alexander,  now 
afraid  of  her  and  yet  unwilling  to  leave  her. 

Mrs.  Miller  could  see  the  cell-door  swing  back — her 
devoted  boy,  with  dignity  and  poise,  moving  to  his 
death — the  black  cap,  and  all  the  other  ugly  accom- 
paniments of  an  execution.  And  she  saw  in  his  hand 
the  mysterious  manuscript  ready  to  be  delivered  to  the 
sheriff.  Often  she  had  wished  that  the  Lord  might 
take  her  before  Beckwith's  fate  was  consummated.  To 

278 


GETHSEMANE 

live  to  see  him  a  condemned  murderer  was  hard,  but 
to  survive  his  death  upon  the  gallows  seemed  a  sorrow 
beyond  her  strength.  And  she  was  failing  rapidly: 
the  strain,  the  grief,  the  disgrace  had  done  their  work. 

Without  warning,  rising  in  her  bed  and  looking  like 
a  maniac,  Alice  shot  forth  a  piercing  scream  that  froze 
Alexander  and  brought  the  mother  to  her  feet. 

She  rolled  her  eyes,  twitched  convulsively,  threw  up 
her  arms  and  fell  back  like  lead. 

Mrs.  Miller  bent  over  her  and  listened. 

The  heart  had  ceased  to  beat. 

Watching  more  closely,  she  saw  the  lips  move  and 
her  charge  gradually  revive. 

The  mother  now  waited  for  the  next  scene  in  the 
grewsome  tragedy.  She  shrank  from  each  noise  of 
the  street.  It  might  be  a  newsboy,  and  she  feared  his 
cry :  "Extra  !  Full  account  of  the  execution !"  And 
the  cry  of  his  companion:  "Extra!  Extra  paper! 
All  about  the  confession  of  Miller  the  murderer!" 


279 


CHAPTER  XXX 
LEX  TALIONIS 

Revenge  is  a  kind  of  wild  justice,  which  the  more  man's 
nature  runs  to,  the  more  ought  law  to  weed  it  out. 

—  Bacon. 

He  told  how  murderers  walked  the  earth 

Beneath  the  curse  of  Cain,  — 
With  crimson  clouds  before  their  eyes, 

And  flames  about  their  brain; 
For  blood  has  left  upon  their  souls 

Its  everlasting  stain  I 

—  Hood. 

Fierce  in  dread  silence  on  the  blasted  heath 
Fell  Upas  sits,  the  hydra-tree  of  death. 

—  Erasmus  Darwin. 


partners  in  law  were  at  their  office  early  that 
Friday  morning,  but  work  was  suspended. 
A  messenger  commanded  the  attention  of  the  ever 
alert  Colonel. 

"Come  at  once.    Don't  delay  a  moment  !" 
"A  note  from  the  Emergency  Hospital,  George  — 
our  first  case  !    We  must  be  off  !" 

At  the  hospital  they  were  hurried  to  one  of  the 
beds  reserved  for  serious  cases.    They  looked  into  the 

280 


LEX     TALIONIS 

face  of  a  dying  man — a  professional  criminal,  they 
had  been  told,  whose  conscience  was  demanding  to 
be  released  from  a  burden  before  death  claimed  him. 

The  Colonel  turned  to  the  superintendent : 

"Here,  madam — you,  too,  nurse — Miss — Miss — 
Miss  Ayres — now  both  listen  and  don't  lose  a  word!" 

He  bent  over  the  bed. 

"Talk  up  a  little,  my  friend!" 

The  patient  spoke  with  great  effort,  but  his  labored 
confession  was  circumstantial. 

He  had  been  for  many  years  the  janitor  of  a  col- 
lege of  pharmacy.  Naturally  quick  to  learn,  he  had 
picked  up,  with  other  things,  a  good  deal  of  infor- 
mation about  poisons.  Later  he  had  fallen  into  the 
criminal  class;  then  into  the  ranks  of  the  dangerous, 
joining  the  gang  which  made  its  headquarters  around 
Macomb's  dam  bridge.  Robert  had  been  in  their  way, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  put  him  to  sleep !  Not 
without  difficulty  he  had  obtained  some  French  digi- 
talin,  unscrewed  the  mouthpiece  in  the  large  pipe  which 
Robert  kept  in  the  boat,  and  inserted  the  drug  in  the 
stem  and  bowl  in  such  a  way  that  anyone  who  used 
the  pipe  would  draw  into  his  mouth  enough  of  the 
poisonous  powder  to  cause  death.  He  had  restored 
the  mouthpiece  and  left  the  pipe  in  an  upright  posi- 

281 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

tion,  filled  with  fresh  tobacco,  trusting  that  its  owner 
would  light  up  without  first  emptying  the  bowl. 

Colonel  Sickles  knew  that  the  administration  of  the 
drug  in  this  way  was  feasible.  While  digitalin  is  acrid 
to  the  taste,  its  bitterness  develops  slowly.  The  juice 
which  settles  in  a  pipe  is  also  bitter,  and  the  taste  of 
a  constant  smoker  is  dulled. 
The  Colonel  lost  no  time. 

"George,    jump!     In    that    room — write    out    the 
story." 

The  Colonel  dashed  down  the  hall. 
"Is  this  you,  Watrous?"     He  was  telephoning  the 
Governor's  local  factotum. 
"Yes,  who  is  it?" 

"Sickles.     Where's    the    Governor? — I    want    him 
quick — I've   got   a   confession   that   will   clear   Beck 

Miller " 

"The  devil  you  say!  The  Governor's  in  Albany!" 
"Now,  here,  we  haven't  a  minute  to  lose !  I  want  a 
reprieve.  I'm  at  the  Emergency  Hospital,  understand 
—when  I  leave  here  I'll  go  to  the  courthouse  and  then 
direct  to  the  Tombs,  but  I'll  wait  here  to  get  the  con- 
fession signed.  You  wire  the  Governor;  I  will,  too; 
and  I'll  get  the  Judge  to  do  the  same.  Look  out  for 
mishaps!  Move  quick!  I'll  go  right  to  the  Jailer's 

282 


LEX     TALIONIS 

office  and  work  from  there !  Telephone  the  Sheriff  I'm 
on  my  way — he's  there  by  this  time !  Keep  me  posted ! 
Goodbye !" 

The  Colonel  seized  the  telephone  directory  to  look 
up  the  nearest  livery. 

"I've  got  it — it's  right  at  the  door — two  horses — 
the  best  in  town  !"  spoke  a  familiar  voice. 

The  face  of  the  Colonel  brightened.  It  was  Robert 
of  Florence's  Hotel. 

"I  guess  you're  responsible  for  this !"  the  Colonel 
exclaimed.  "You're  all  right,  Robert !  Wait — I'll 
write  a  telegram  to  the  Governor!" 

He  darted  to  the  table  and  wrote  vigorously. 

"There — speed  the  rig — give  the  operator  an  extra 
dollar — then  come  back  here  on  the  run — here's  the 
money — quick !" 

The  partners  hastened  back  to  the  sick  man. 

The  nurse  was  shading  the  patient's  eyes  and  the 
superintendent  raised  a  finger.  They  were  in  the 
presence  of  death ! 

The  Colonel  bowed  his  head,  ran  his  fingers  through 
his  hair  and  tiptoed  out  of  the  room,  George  fol- 
lowing. 

They  found  the  negro  and  his  carriage  at  the  door 
and  were  soon  on  their  way. 

283 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"You  must  have  been  at  work  on  this  for  a  long 
time,  Robert." 

"Yes,  Colonel." 

"By  the  way,  Robert,  I've  always  wanted  to  know 
a  thing  or  two.  Chief  Campbell  had  you  in  charge 
from  the  time  of  the  fishing  party  until  the  trial, 
didn't  he?" 

"At  his  cousin's — in  the  country — yes." 

"Lived  pretty  well  up  there?" 

"Yes.  I  thought  then  that  Miller  had  done  the  old 
man,  but  I  wasn't  sure.  I  said  to  myself,  'If  I  tell  the 
truth  I  can't  wrong  anybody.'  And  I  did  tell  the 
truth!" 

"No  doubt  of  it — not  a  bit  of  doubt  of  it.  Is  it 
true  that  Miss  Hodgkin  paid  the  Campbells?" 

"I  believe  she  did.  Everybody  knew  she  had  the 
cash,  and  they  were  after  it." 

"I  don't  suppose  you  got  any  of  it,  Robert.  How 
about  that?" 

"No,  I  guess  they  thought  they  could  get  me  better 
another  way.  They  told  me  I  was  to  get  a  new  boat 
and  go  on  the  police  force  or  the  fire  department — and 
some  other  things." 

"But  you  didn't  get  them?" 

"No,  sir.    They  were  foxy.    They  didn't  come  right 

284 


LEX     TALIONIS 

out  and  say,  'We  want  you  to  swear  so-and-so,'  but 
they  came  at  me  this  way:  'Don't  you  recollect  when 
Hodgkin  was  taken  sick  he  turned  to  Miller  and  said, 
"What  was  in  that  capsule  ?" '  They  tried  a  lot  of 
such  questions  on  me  and  read  statements  of  people, 
but  it's  easy  to  write  statements.  You  see,  Colonel, 
I  knew  there  was  going  to  be  trouble  for  somebody, 
and  I  was  particular  not  to  let  them  do  anybody  by 
using  me.  The  white  folks  are  mighty  handy  some- 
times when  they  want  to  use  my  people,  but  I've  got  a 
little  education  and  some  conscience,  and  they  didn't 
fool  me.  They  didn't  bluff  me,  either.  And  I  told 
the  truth !  And  I  got  no  new  boat !  I  knew  I  wouldn't 
unless  I  did  what  they  wanted,  but  they  wanted  wicked- 
ness. I  began  to  think  they  were  on  the  wrong  side 
of  the  case.  I  kept  my  eyes  and  ears  open,  and  you 
have  the  man  that  did  the  job." 

"Then  you  know  the  facts?" 

"No,  not  a  word — I  have  no  evidence — only  knew 
that  he  knew." 

The  Colonel  had  his  dun  brother  by  the  hand. 

"You're  a  noble  fellow,  my  friend.  I  take  my  hat 
off  to  you !  Here's  the  confession — read  it " 

"Is  the  Governor  coming?"  interrupted  Robert. 

"In  Albany!" 

285 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"Are  you  sure?  I  couldn't  get  hold  of  you,  so  I 
had  the  new  chief  wire  him  last  night  to  come  here — 
felt  we  ought  to  be  ready." 

When  they  entered  the  courthouse  the  partners 
drew  close  to  each  other,  so  that  Robert  could  not  over- 
hear. 

"George,  that  negro  is  a  fine  character.  In  our 
conceit  we  think  our  race  has  all  the  virtue,  all  the 
wisdom  and  all  the  energy  in  the  world.  A  little 
humility  wouldn't  hurt  us." 

With  great  difficulty,  and  only  after  some  delay, 
the  Colonel  succeeded  in  persuading  the  Judge  to  in- 
terrupt a  hearing.  Then  each  word  of  the  confes- 
sion was  scrutinized,  and  the  three  petitioners  were 
cross-examined.  Time  was  still  rushing  on  while  the 
Judge  considered  phraseology  so  that  his  recom- 
mendation might  not  be  too  mandatory. 

All  this  time  Colonel  Sickles  was  burning  with  im- 
patience, but  outwardly  calm. 

George  was  left  to  wait  for  the  apostle  of  delibera- 
tion, with  instructions  from  the  Colonel  to  rush  a 
telegram,  while  the  veteran  lawyer  and  Robert  were 
galloped  to  the  jail. 

286 


LEX     TALIONIS 

The  Sheriff  and  his  chief  deputy  were  on  hand. 
They  were  nervous.  On  the  table  was  a  bottle  from 
which  the  actors  in  the  approaching  tragedy  were 
imbibing.  It  was  the  custom. 

The  Colonel  gave  the  confession  to  the  Sheriff. 
The  Sheriff  passed  back  a  telegram. 

"Here,"  he  said.  "Here's  something  you're  inter- 
ested in." 

The  lawyer  read  aloud: 

Governor  taken  suddenly  ill  at  West  Point  on  way 
to  New  York.     Notify  Sickles. 

"Have  you  wired  West  Point?"  asked  the  Colonel, 
while  Robert  was  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his 
brow. 

"Not  yet,"  answered  the  Sheriff.  "It's  a  hard  place 
to  get,  anyway !  Military !  Red  tape !  Cocky — the 
whole  lot!  But  here!  this  confession  isn't  signed. 
What  kind  of  a  game  is  this?  Watrous  said  you  had 
a  confession — this  isn't  anything!" 

"Yes,  it  is — the  man  died — I  was  there  and  heard 
it — and  my  partner,  too." 

The  Sheriff  was  red  in  the  face.  With  a  sneer  he 
threw  the  unsigned  paper  on  the  table. 

287 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"Some  game!"  he  mumbled.  "Some  game  of  you 
rotten  criminal  lawyers !" 

Robert  swung  quickly  out  of  the  room. 

"We  were  summoned  to  the  Emergency  Hospital," 
resumed  the  Colonel.  "Just  came  from  there — my 
partner  and  I.  But — before  I  forget  it — you  advised 
Watrous  of  this  telegram?" 

"Yes — read  it  to  him  over  the  'phone." 

"Well,  that's  covered — now,  my  partner  wrote  out 
the  confession  in  a  hurry  to  make  sure  to  get  it  signed ; 
but  the  man  died  before  we  got  to  it — the  paper's 
all  right,  though — here  he  is  now!  George,  you 
heard " 

"Certainly — the  confession's  absolutely  correct — no 
doubt  about  that." 

"Anything  you  want  to  ask  him,  Walt?  No? 
Well,  George,  hurry  back  to  the  telegraph  office  and 
change  that  telegram.  Send  it  to  West  Point — the 
Governor's  there." 

"That's  a  great  boy,  Walt,"  the  Colonel  observed  as 
his  partner  hastily  left,  "and  very  accurate — you  can 
rely  on  him " 

"Yes,"  broke  in  the  Sheriff,  "you  can  rely  on  his 
saying  exactly  what  you  want.  There's  something 
wrong  here !" 

288 


"But  here!  this  confession  isn't  signed.' 


LEX     TALIONIS 

The  Colonel  turned  the  pages  of  the  telephone  direc- 
tory. 

"Don't  be  a  fool !  You  see  the  number — now  you'll 
know  I'm  really  calling  the  Emergency  Hospital — 
there  can't  be  any  mistake  about  that !" 

A  scoffing  grunt  escaped  the  Sheriff. 

"Hello — Emergency  Hospital?  Let  me  talk  to  the 
superintendent.  Just  left!  Then  let  me  have  Miss 
Ayres. — She  went  with  her!  Where  can  I  get  in 
touch  with  them? — it's  important!  Didn't  leave  any 
word!  Well,  be  careful  about  this — a  man's  life  is  at 
stake.  When  either  of  the  women  gets  back,  have  her 
call  the  Tombs  and  ask  for  the  Sheriff,  and  don't 
delay.— All  right !" 

The  Colonel  whistled. 

"What's  the  use  of  all  this,  Walt?  You  don't  need 
these  women  to  vouch  for  us!" 

"You  fooled  me  once — I've  not  forgotten — you'll 
not  do  it  a  second  time !" 

The  Sheriff  took  another  glass  of  whisky  and  shook 
his  head  with  determination. 

"Oh,  get  some  sense  in  your  brain !  You're  sheriff, 
but  you're  a  man — don't  forget  that — you  aren't 
going  to  strangle  that  innocent  prisoner  if  we  slip  up 
on  this  thing,  are  you?" 

289 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"What  would  you  do  in  my  place?  You're  a  sol- 
dier— you  know  what  orders  are  for — they're  to  be 
obeyed!  Now,  what's  your  game?  You're  not  on 
the  square — that's  sure!" 

The  Sheriff  was  called  out  mysteriously,  taking  the 
confession  with  him. 

While  the  Sheriff  was  still  out,  George  returned. 

"I  think  Watrous  and  the  Sheriff  are  conferring  to- 
gether, Colonel,"  he  confided. 

"I  divined  as  much.    They've  been  out  a  long  time." 

When  the  Sheriff  entered  the  room  again  he  looked 
more  sour  and  determined  than  ever. 

"If  the  Governor  hadn't  fixed  the  hour  of  the  execu- 
tion, we'd  be  all  right !"  exclaimed  the  Colonel.  "Don't 
fret — we'll  have  word  from  him — or  we'll  hear  from 
the  hospital  women — so  you  needn't  be  making  any 
preparations." 

"They're  all  made.  They'll  go  right  on.  Hear 
that  murmur — it's  the  spectators !" 

"What's  got  into  you,  Walt?  You're  not  human — 
you've  got  the  heart  of  a  murderer  yourself.  I've 
stood  all  of  this  I'm  going  to — I'll  raise  hell  here  if 
you  don't  change " 

"I  know  my  job — you  can't  bully  me.  Suppose 
you've  got  a  fake  confession ! — you're  not  above  it — 

290 


LEX     TALIONIS 

then  the  man  goes  free  because  his  sentence  wasn't 
executed — you'd  raise  the  question  yourself " 

"No,"  interrupted  the  Colonel.     "I  never  will." 

"But  some  other  lawyer  will — this  is  a  lawyer  we're 
hanging !  He  knows !  Then  where'd  I  be  ?" 

"Come  now,  we're  no  confidence-men — we  aren't 
going  to  sacrifice  you  because  you  protected  us.  We 
can  resentcnce,  anyway,  if  a  prisoner  isn't  hanged  on 
time." 

"Doesn't  apply  to  a  case  like  this.  You  needn't 
waste  your  time  talking  to  me  about  that — I've  got 
my  own  opinion  on  that  matter." 

"So  have  I,"  volunteered  the  deputy,  as  he  left  the 
room. 

"He'll  act — that  deputy  of  mine,"  said  the  Sheriff. 
"We've  got  to  move  quick !" 

The  Colonel  grabbed  the  telephone  again : 

"No  word  from  your  superintendent  or  Miss  Ayres  ? 
The  time's  getting  short — don't  delay  a  second!" 

"Four  minutes !"  exclaimed  George. 

They  all  rushed  to  the  yard,  where  the  death  scene 
was  in  progress,  and  pushed  their  way  through  the 
savage,  red-faced  crowd,  the  Colonel  shaking  off  a 
swarm  of  reporters  and  arguing  with  Watrous,  who 
had  joined  them. 

£91 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

Beckwith  was  ashen  pale.  His  eyes  were  flaming 
with  restrained  terror.  But  his  lips  were  pressed 
tightly  together  and  his  teeth  were  set.  In  his  hand 
he  held  a  roll  of  manuscript,  and  when  the  Sheriff  came 
near  enough  he  gave  it  into  the  hand  that  was  about 
to  destroy  him. 

"The  confession !"  whispered  the  reporters,  and  one 
tried  to  grab  the  roll. 

"Miller  can  be  resentenced,"  the  Colonel  urged 
again. 

"I  told  Walt  that,"  replied  Watrous,  "but  he's  got 
a  big  load  of  liquor — he  won't  budge !" 

"He'll  sign  a  consent,"  pleaded  the  Colonel. 

Watrous  took  the  Sheriff  to  one  side,  and  their 
raucous  bickering  could  be  heard  above  the  mutterings 
of  the  jostling  men. 

The  Colonel  put  his  arm  around  his  client  and 
spoke  in  a  low  voice: 

"Beck,  we've  got  a  confession,  :it  the  man  died 
before  we  could  get  it  signed.  We  can't  get  hold  of 
the  Governor,  and  the  Sheriff's  stubborn  drunk.  It 
looks  bad,  but  koep  your  nerve " 

Watrous  came  to  the  side  of  the  Colonel. 

"It's  no  use!" 

The  Sheriff  adjusted  the  cap.     The  crowd   was 

292 


LEX     TALIONIS 

pushed  back.  All  took  off  their  hats  in  preparation 
for  the  signal.  And  each  man  held  his  breath. 

A  mighty  yell  turned  the  faces  of  all  toward  the 
jail.  It  was  Robert,  running  at  top  speed,  followed 
by  the  Jailer  and  two  women. 

In  a  flash  the  Colonel  exclaimed  to  Watrous: 

"The  superintendent  and  the  nurse !" 

At  a  single  jump  Watrous  was  behind  the  Sheriff, 
pinioning  his  arms  to  avert  the  signal.  "The  hospital 
women  are  here,"  he  whispered. 

"To  hell  with  them !  Let  me  loose !"  The  Sheriff 
was  struggling,  but  finally  drew  to  one  side  and  talked 
with  the  women.  He  was  obstinate,  and  liquor  had 
aroused  in  him  the  latent  desire  to  kill.  He  lashed  the 
astonished  women  with  rough  language;  but  a  moment 
later  his  deputy,  in  obedience  to  orders,  unloosed  the 
cap  and  unbound  the  prisoner. 

Beckwith  was  led  back  to  his  cell. 

"Go,  Colonel — George,"  he  said,  with  such  voice  as 
he  could  muster,  "as  fast  as — you  can — to  my  home — 
and — tell  them — with  love " 

He  could  say  no  more. 

"Hurry!"  interposed  Watrous.  "I'll  take  charge 
here,  and  I'll  be  in  West  Point  tonight." 

The  partners  did  not  linger. 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

"That's  the  closest  call" — said  the  Colonel  to 
George  as  they  drove  to  the  homestead — "that's  the 
closest  call  of  my  life — and  of  Beck's !" 

Their  manner  at  the  Miller  home  bespoke  good 
news,  but  not  its  full  extent.  They  bent  over  Alice — 
she  was  humming. 

It  was  the  Spring  Song! 

The  Colonel  turned  an  inquiring  glance  to  Mrs. 
Miller,  who  nodded  significantly.  So  he  spoke  gently, 
and  by  easy  stages,  as  the  pressure  was  relieved,  he  told 
tlie  whole  story. 

"Now,  little  woman,"  he  soothed,  as  he  concluded, 
"your  troubles  are  over.  We'll  have  a  pardon  at 
once,  and  Beck  will  be  home  again." 

Alice  turned  to  her  adviser  a  grateful  eye,  in  which 
the  light  of  reason  shone  again,  and  wife  and  mother 
took  him  affectionately  by  the  hand. 

This  was  the  biggest  fee  of  his  life — the  gratitude 
of  noble  women,  released  from  their  bitter  thrall  in 
the  shadow  of  THE  UPAS  TREE. 


294 


Beckwith's    Confession 


BECKWITH'S   CONFESSION 


The  laws  of  the  Roman  kings,  and  the  twelve  tables  of  the 
decemviri,  were  full  of  cruel  punishments;  the  Porcian  law, 
which  exempted  all  citizens  from  sentence  of  death,  silently 
abrogated  them  all.  In  this  period  the  republic  flourished: 
under  the  emperors  severe  punishments  were  revived;  and 
then  the  empire  fell.  —  Blaclcstone. 

The  knowledge  already  acquired  in  some  countries,  or  that 
may  be  hereafter  attained  in  others,  concerning  the  surest  rules 
to  be  observed  in  criminal  judgments,  is  more  interesting  to 
mankind  than  any  other  thing  in  the  world.  —  Montesquieu. 


who  have  read  in  the  newspapers  the 
reports  of  my  trial  undoubtedly  expect  from  me 
a  confession  that  I  am  a  murderer,  which  would,  of 
course,  also  be  an  admission  that  I  am  a  perjurer. 
However,  many  would  not  censure  a  man  who  com- 
mitted perjury  to  preserve  his  life,  for  our  moral 
codes  excuse  it  in  some  extreme  situations,  and  it  is 
an  everyday  offense  in  cases  which  strongly  appeal 
to  the  emotions.  Indeed,  a  man  needs  merely  to  be 
charged  with  a  crime  like  murder  to  almost  wholly 
rob  him  of  the  weight  of  his  oath.  But  I  have  noth- 

297 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

ing  to  relate  different  from  that  told  by  me  under 
great  stress  upon  the  witness-stand.  I  have  a  message 
to  my  fellows  of  much  greater  importance.  It  is  the 
last  word  of  an  innocent  man,  about  to  be  executed, 
who  asks  you  to  read  his  statement  patiently. 

When  a  boy  I  was  a  diligent  member  of  a  debating 
society.  One  of  the  subjects  for  discussion  at  the 
meetings,  as  a  matter  of  course,  was  capital  punish- 
ment. I  then  believed  in  the  death  penalty,  but  my 
investigations  in  preparing  for  debate  convinced  me 
that  we  have  no  right  to  inflict  it;  that  it  does  not 
deter  others  from  committing  crime,  and  that  it  is  an 
injury  to  society.  Since  my  arrest  I  have  renewed  my 
interest  in  the  subject  and  have  read  much  upon  it, 
making  this  study  my  diversion  after  my  incarcer- 
ation as  I  did  the  study  of  poisons  before,  and  I  use 
freely  in  this  statement  the  arguments  and  data  of  the 
books.  My  conclusions  are  made  public  in  the  hope 
that  when  my  innocence  is  established,  the  jurors  and 
other  persons  directly  concerned  in  my  conviction  will 
take  up  the  mission  of  blotting  the  death  penalty  from 
the  statute  books  of  this  State ;  not  only  for  the  sake 
of  those  who  may  be  unjustly  accused  thereafter,  but 
in  justice  to  their  families,  for  whom  I  earnestly 
plead.  It  is  their  cause  that  has  inspired  this  brief. 

298 


BECK  WITH' S     CONFESSION 

Let  it  be  borne  in  mind  at  the  outset  that  the  penalty 
of  death  is  inflicted  upon  only  a  certain  kind  of  mur- 
derers. In  our  industrial  trades  thousands  perish  by 
preventable  accident;  but  owners  and  managers  who 
inflict  this  loss  of  life  are  rarely  punished  in  any  way. 
The  man  of  commerce  who  adulterates  his  food  prod- 
uct, whereby  a  human  being  is  fatally  poisoned,  is 
not  even  apprehended.  The  despised  saloonkeeper 
who  does  his  customer  to  death  by  the  slow  process  of 
constant  intoxication  is  not  dealt  with  as  a  major 
criminal,  nor  the  reputable  distiller  or  brewer  whose 
exactions  were  the  first  cause.  The  dispenser  of  a 
drug  that  consumes  the  will,  and  finally  the  man,  is  in 
no  danger  of  the  gallows.  And  the  crime  of  the  pro- 
curer, which  destroys  happiness  and  health  and  hope 
and  soul — which  ends  in  death  and  renders  it  welcome 
— is  not  punished  capitally. 

Readers  of  history  cannot  fail  to  perceive  that  this 
penalty  is  disappearing  step  by  step. 

We  are  told  that  deaths  through  religious  perse- 
cution alone  averaged  eighty  thousand  a  year  for  a 
period  of  six  hundred  years.  Hume  quotes  Harrison 
as  authority  for  the  statement  that  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  VIII  seventy-two  thousand  persons  were  exe- 
cuted for  theft  and  robbery;  and  in  the  golden  age 

299 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

of  Elizabeth  between  three  and  four  hundred  a  year. 

It  is  not  so  very  long  since  it  was  a  capital  offense 
in  England  to  cut  down  a  cherry  tree,  as  it  was  to 
keep  company  with  a  gypsy,  or  to  steal  a  pocket- 
handkerchief.  And  even  in  the  year  of  Grace  1833 
a  boy  nine  years  old  who  broke  through  a  pane  of 
glass  and  stole  four  cents'  worth  of  paint  was  con- 
victed of  housebreaking,  the  penalty  for  this  crime 
then  being  death!  Such  is  civilization  too  securely 
founded  on  commerce;  and  such  is  jurisprudence  too 
exactly  reared  upon  property  rights ! 

This  reckless  slaughter  is  no  longer  possible,  and 
with  less  sanguinary  laws  have  come,  partly  through 
the  example  and  influence  of  this  country,  a  number 
of  other  changes  which  indicate  an  advancing  civiliza- 
tion. 

Trial  by  jury  has  been  instituted.  Hanging  in 
chains  has  been  done  away  with.  The  law  permitting 
the  dissection  of  the  executed  criminal  has  been  re- 
pealed. Quartering  and  breaking  on  the  wheel  and 
burning  at  the  stake  have  passed  into  traditions. 
Human  heads  are  no  longer  used  as  decorations.  The 
death  penalty  for  political  crimes  has  been  abandoned 
generally ;  it  has  substantially  disappeared  for  infanti- 
cide; and  the  execution  of  a  woman  is  rare.  Public 

300 


BECKWITH'S     CONFESSION 

hangings  have  been  almost  wholly  abolished.  Two 
degrees  of  murder  have  been  established  by  law,  one 
of  which  in  nearly  all  countries  is  not  capital.  A 
prisoner  is  now  permitted  counsel  and  the  right  to 
have  his  case  reviewed  by  an  appellate  tribunal.  And 
in  some  forums  the  determination  of  the  penalty  to 
be  inflicted  is  left  to  the  jury.  In  these  particulars  we 
have  gradually  approached,  and  in  others  we  are 
rapidly  nearing,  the  abolition  of  the  penalty. 

This  form  of  punishment  is  discriminatory.  Be- 
cause of  its  severity  it  is  almost  never  inflicted  upon  a 
person  of  wealth  or  influence.  Once  in  a  generation 
a  college  professor  kills  a  person  of  equal  prominence 
and  suffers  death ;  but  in  general  we  hang  only  such  as 
belong  to  the  abjectly  miserable  portion  of  humanity. 
The  insignificant  deterrent  influence  of  strangling 
these  unfortunates  has  not  even  offset  the  bitterness 
and  malice  engendered  in  the  hearts  of  the  surviving 
relatives,  prosecutors  and  other  actors  in  the  trage- 
dies of  the  courtroom.  So  far  as  the  death  penalty 
is  concerned  it  would  be  perfectly  safe  for  any  one  of 
means  or  position  to  commit  murder,  provided  only 
the  victim  be  comparatively  unknown. 

For  the  reason  that  I  had  some  little  political  stand- 
ing I  felt  secure  from  extreme  punishment,  and  in 

301 


THE    UPAS     TREE 

truth  would  never  have  been  convicted  but  for  the  cir- 
cumstance that  the  niece  of  Mr.  Hodgkin  was  willing 
and  able  to  spend  money  with  a  lavish  hand.  And 
it  was  in  my  power  to  escape  conviction,  on  a  first 
trial  at  all  events,  had  I  chosen  to  avail  myself  of  the 
influence  which  even  I  was  able  to  command.  The 
short  of  the  matter  is  that  the  death  penalty  is  too 
severe  to  be  inflicted  upon  the  rich  or  the  strong.  It 
is  one  of  the  cruel  inventions  of  caste — it  is  a  class 
penalty,  just  as  some  of  the  laws  governing  it  have 
been  class  laws.  Sheep-stealing  was  punishable  with 
death  when  the  larceny  of  an  ass  or  a  pig  was  not. 
The  sheep  belonged  to  the  well-to-do,  who  made  the 
law,  while  the  ass  and  the  pig  were  owned  by  the  poor. 
Most  people  justify  the  deliberate  taking  of  a  life 
by  the  State  for  the  wilful  taking  of  a  life  by  man  on 
the  ground  that  life  is  sacred  and  that  he  who  takes 
it  must  expect  the  most  severe  of  all  punishments. 
But  if  life  is  sacred  enough  to  be  protected  from  de- 
struction by  personal  violence,  is  it  not  so  sacred  that 
we  should  make  it  certain  that  it  will  not  be  taken 
through  conspiracy,  public  prejudice  or  judicial  mis- 
take? Why  not  go  a  step  further  and  say  that  life  is 
so  sacred  that  the  State  should  not  take  it  at  all? 
Among  the  Quakers,  who  live  by  this  rule,  there  are 

302 


BECKWITH'S     CONFESSION 

no  murders.  Would  not  the  public  sentiment  culti- 
vated by  this  doctrine  be  more  potent  than  the  present 
attempt  to  accent  the  sacredness  of  life  by  hanging 
the  homicide? 

The  contemplation  of  an  execution,  with  the  hor- 
rors that  inseparably  accompany  it,  degrades  and 
brutalizes.  It  cannot  be  otherwise,  and  the  State,  in 
the  opinion  of  many,  has  no  right  thus  to  degrade  its 
people  unless  it  is  absolutely  indisputable  that  the 
result  sought  for  cannot  be  accomplished  in  any  other 
way.  The  death  penalty  renders  human  life  less 
sacred,  also,  by  inducing  the  desire  for  suicide  on  the, 
part  of  the  criminal,  so  that  every  prisoner  under  sen- 
tence of  death  is  guarded  with  the  greatest  care,  lest 
he  destroy  himself  and  thus  set  before  the  community 
another  evidence  of  disregard  for  life. 

It  has  struck  me  that  cowardice  has  had  much  to  do 
with  retaining  this  form  of  punishment.  In  cases  of 
murder  we  do  not  inflict  the  extreme  penalty  for  the 
crime  itself,  but  for  the  result.  If  one  discharges  a 
load  of  buckshot  into  the  breast  of  another  with  the 
distinct  intention  of  murdering  him,  and  it  happens 
that  the  man  survives,  the  punishment  is  limited  to 
imprisonment.  If  the  man  dies,  the  penalty  may  be 
death.  Morally  the  crime  is  committed  when  the  gun 

303 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

is  discharged,  and  to  be  consistent,  the  sacredness  of 
human  life  and  all  the  other  arguments  that  are  used 
to  sustain  and  justify  capital  punisKment  demand  that 
the  offender  be  executed.  Yet  such  is  not  the  law. 
We  refuse  to  abolish  this  penalty  for  crime  which 
results  in  death  because  we  fear  that  our  lives  may 
be  less  secure.  In  other  countries  this  fear  has  come 
to  the  surface  when  it  was  proposed  to  abolish  the 
punishment,  although  the  abolition,  in  every  instance, 
proved  the  fear  to  be  unfounded. 

A  penalty  so  severe  as  not  to  be  enforceable  has  a 
basic  objection:  it  produces  unrest  to  have  a  constant 
miscarriage  of  justice.  A  wealthy  malefactor,  an  in- 
fluential murderer,  a  powerful  assassin  cannot  go  free, 
in  a  community  where  paupers  and  friendless  foreign- 
ers are  hanged,  without  the  people  acquiring  a  con- 
tempt for  the  laws,  such  as  they  felt  in  England  during 
a  period  of  fifteen  years  when  555  verdicts  were  ren- 
dered for  stealing  from  a  dwelling  thirty-nine  shillings, 
at  a  time  when  it  was  a  capital  offense  to  steal  forty 
shillings.  When  the  amount  was  changed  to  five 
pounds  the  juries  raised  their  verdicts  to  four  pounds 
nineteen  shillings! 

Capital  punishment  is  generally  defended  upon  re- 

304 


BECKWITH'S    CONFESSION 

ligious  grounds.  The  passage  upon  which  those  who 
favor  the  death  penalty  rely  is  that  part  of  the  sixth 
verse  of  the  ninth  chapter  of  Genesis  which  reads: 
"Whoso  sheddeth  man's  blood,  by  man  shall  his  blood 
be  shed."  Whether  it  be  true  that  the  words  whoso 
and  his  are  improper  translations  for  whatsoever  and 
its;  or  shall  a  mistranslation  for  will;  or  that  the 
words  by  man  were  not  in  the  original  or  early  editions 
of  the  Bible — whether  they  were  interpolated  by 
royalty  to  fit  the  wants  of  the  State;  whether  this 
passage  is  merely  a  prediction  of  what  would  be  likely 
to  follow  in  the  course  of  human  events;  whether  it 
can  be  harmonized  with  the  fact  that  Cain  (whose 
crime  is  recorded  in  an  earlier  chapter  of  the  same 
book)  was  not  executed;  whether  it  can  be  reconciled 
with  the  survival  of  David,  Herod,  Lamech,  Manasseh, 
Moses  and  Zimri  after  they  had  taken  human  life; 
whether  the  passage  is  nullified  because  it  does  not 
except  homicide  that  is  justifiable,  or  the  shedding  of 
blood  in  war  or  by  accident — whether  all  or  any  of 
these  arguments,  so  often  urged,  are  valid,  I  do  not 
care.  These  are  the  words  of  the  Old  Testament.  If 
we  are  to  derive  our  authority  for  capital  punishment 
from  that  part  of  the  Good  Book,  we  may  likewise 

305 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

there  find  our  authority  for  slavery,  since  we  are  told 
that  "of  the  heathen  that  are  round  about"  us  we 
shall  buy  bondmen.  And  by  these  words  slavery  was 
defended  not  very  long  ago. 

We  are  told  in  Exodus  that  "he  that  curseth  his 
father,  or  his  mother,  shall  surely  be  put  to  death," 
and  that  if  an  ox  known  by  its  owner  to  be  vicious 
escapes  from  its  stall  and  kills  a  human  being,  the  ox 
and  "his  owner  also  shall  be  put  to  death."  To  be 
consistent,  then,  those  who  undertake  to  sustain  capital 
punishment  by  the  sentence  from  Genesis  must  uphold 
hanging  for  cursing  a  parent,  or  even  for  negligence 
in  the  care  of  a  vicious  ox ;  and  for  thirty-three  trans- 
gressions, including  witchcraft,  all  of  which  are  desig- 
nated as  capital  in  the  Mosaic  law.  The  doctrine  of 
"life  for  life,  eye  for  eye,  tooth  for  tooth,"  given  us 
by  the  Old  Testament,  is  expressly  repudiated  in  the 
New.  In  fact,  the  only  sanction  for  capital  punish- 
ment which  is  even  claimed  to  exist  in  the  New 
Testament  is  contained  in  what  may  be  called  the 
"sword"  texts — passages  which  should  be  interpreted 
reasonably,  reading  the  word  s&ord,  as  it  was  written, 
in  a  figurative  sense.  Moreover,  we  are  told  that 
vengeance  is  the  Lord's ;  we  are  commanded  after  the 

806 


BECKWITH'S     CONFESSION 

most  solemn  fashion  not  to  kill ;  and,  if  we  adhere  to 
the  original  Hebrew,  as  I  am  informed,  expressly  en- 
joined not  to  kill  man. 

Aside  from  the  fact  that  no  sufficient  warrant  is  to 
be  found  in  the  Scriptures  for  the  infliction  of  death 
as  a  punishment,  it  would  seem  clear  that  the  State 
has  the  right  to  deprive  a  man  of  his  civil  rights  only. 
It  may  lawfully  withdraw  its  protection  and  its  privi- 
leges from  an  offender,  but  the  right  of  a  human  being 
to  live  is  derived  from  the  Creator,  and  the  State  can- 
not justly  take  it  away.  Constantine  prohibited  brand- 
ing the  faces  of  criminals  because  he  believed  it  to  be 
a  violation  of  the  law  of  Nature  to  mar  the  majesty 
of  the  human  face.  And  Nature's  first  law  is  life! 

No  one  has  the  right  to  take  his  own  life,  and  there- 
fore no  one  has  the  right  to  consent  that  others  shall 
take  it.  It  follows  that  if  others  acquire  such  a  right 
it  must  be  wholly  on  the  specious  ground  of  self- 
defense,  or  "expediency,"  as  it  is  generally  called. 

Now,  all  logical  minds  agree  on  this  fundamental 
proposition :  If  the  death  penalty  does  not  deter,  or  if 
communities  are  safe  without  it,  we  have  no  right  to 
retain  it :  for,  under  either  of  these  conditions,  it  can- 
not be  justified  on  the  ground  of  self-defense  or  expe- 

807 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

diency.     Let  us  proceed  to  learn  from  the  facts  that 
both  these  conditions  obtain. 

* 

First.  So  far  as  the  penalty  is  aimed  at  criminals 
it  would  seem  to  be  useless.  In  general  they  do  not 
prize  life  highly.  Moreover,  criminals  who  are  homi- 
cides, as  a  class,  are  not  to  be  frightened.  They  are 
the  bravest  of  their  kind.  Many  of  them  in  com- 
mitting murder  have  had  the  courage  to  risk  their  own 
lives.  While  the  constant  recollection  that  the  State 
has  fixed  the  extreme  punishment  for  murder  may  in- 
duce a  habit  of  mind  averse  to  committing  the  crime, 
it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  the  same  result  would 
not  be  produced,  and  to  the  same  degree,  if  the  pun- 
ishment were  deprivation  of  liberty.  And  this  mental 
state  is  disrupted,  and  every  other  restraint  swept 
aside,  by  strong  passions  which  continue  to  dominate 
until  the  crime  is  consummated.  But  even  such  a 
habit  of  mind  is  foreign  to  the  majority  of  criminals, 
who  are  struggling  against  heredity,  environment  and 

poverty. 

$ 

Second.  The  United  States  heads  the  murder  list 
of  the  world  and  is  far  above  its  nearest  competitor, 
a  condition  which  will  continue  as  long  as  we  retain 

308 


BECKWITH'S    CONFESSION 

our  dramshops,  for  the  saloon  is  the  handmaid  of 
murder.  Most  of  our  homicides  are  committed  in  a 
more  or  less  drunken  state,  when  the  aggressor  has 
dulled  himself  to  considerations  of  fear.  In  the  few 
cases  of  sudden  impulse  there  is  no  time  for  weighing 
consequences. 

* 

Third.  Even  if  a  man  with  murder  in  his  heart 
were  to  stop  to  consider  the  likelihood  of  punishment, 
he  would  naturally  believe  that  he  would  be  one  of  the 

56  who  escape  the  gallows  and  not  the  one  in  every 

57  homicides  in  the   United   States  who  is  hanged. 
In  view  of  the  uncertainties  of  a  jury  trial  he  would 
feel  that  he  probably  would  be  acquitted,  and  at  all 
events  would  not  be  condemned  to  death.      In  New 
York  City,  during  a  period  of  three  years,  141  per- 
sons were  convicted  of  murder,  but  of  these  only  two 
were  executed.     The  old  criminal  knows  these  figures 
in  a  general  way,  and   if  he   calculates  his   chances 
at  all  he  believes  that  even  if  he  should  be  caught  and 
convicted  he  will  be  one  of  the  139  and  not  one  of 
the  two.     As  long  as  there  is  the  element  of  chance 
or  uncertainty  about  threatened  death  it  loses  its  ter- 
rors.    Otherwise  we  would  have  few  volunteer  soldiers 
and  very  few  in  our  extra-hazardous  employments. 

309 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

Fourth.  The  deterrent  effect  of  hanging  has  al* 
ways  been  overestimated.  It  was  the  experience  of 
England  for  generations  that  men  by  the  thousand 
would  risk  the  gallows  to  forge  a  five-pound  note  or 
to  steal  property  of  insignificant  value.  And  it  was 
not  the  fear  of  extreme  punishment,  but  the  inven- 
tion of  the  steamship,  that  broke  up  piracy. 

* 

Fifth.  The  theory  that  hanging  deters  has  found 
its  most  marked  rebuff  in  public  executions.  If  the 
fear  of  such  a  fate  has  any  effect,  the  more  public  the 
hanging  the  greater  would  be  its  restraining  influence. 
Mr.  Roberts,  of  Bristol,  desiring  to  ascertain  the 
practical  value  of  this  theory,  talked  with  167  crimi- 
nals condemned  to  death,  and  found  that  all  but  six 
had  witnessed  executions;  while  one  of  the  Newgate 
chaplains  says  that  he  never  had  under  his  charge  a 
single  condemned  man  who  had  not  witnessed  an 
execution. 

When  hangings  were  public,  it  was  not  uncommon 
for  ten  or  fifteen  thousand  people  to  witness  them, 
and  in  some  instances  the  crowd  numbered  more  than 
forty  thousand;  but  it  was  found  that,  so  far  from 
the  sight  operating  as  a  deterrent,  these  occasions 
were  the  scenes  of  ribald  jests,  profanity,  fights  and 

310 


BECKWITH'S    CONFESSION 

brawls,  in  some  cases  leading  to  another  murder 
before  the  crowd  dispersed.  And  during  executions 
of  pickpockets,  thieves  of  that  class  have  been  caught 
plying  their  trade  in  the  assembled  crowd.  Experi- 
ence has  led  us  to  execute  in  private,  although  the 
press  largely  perpetuates  the  evils  of  the  former 
method.  On  the  other  hand,  if  we  could  completely 
suppress  publicity,  the  warning  would  be  negligible, 
as  the  terrible  punishment  would  be  known  to  but 
few. 

Here  we  meet  with  another  difficulty.  There  must 
be  witnesses  of  an  execution,  so  that  it  may  be 
known  that  the  sentence  of  the  law  has  in  fact  been 
carried  out.  If  the  attendance  of  witnesses  is  permit- 
ted to  be  voluntary,  the  law  might  fail  for  lack  of 
volunteers,  and  if  it  is  made  compulsory,  a  grave 
doubt  arises  that  the  State  ought  to  compel  anyone 
to  witness  the  strangling  of  a  human  being,  particu- 
larly as  such  a  sight  might  produce  a  permanent 
injury  to  the  health  of  the  spectator.  For  my  part, 
I  believe  that  in  America  a  law  which  cannot  be  exe- 
cuted openly  and  publicly  should  not  be  executed 
at  all. 

* 

Sixth.     We  are  just  beginning  to  learn  that  mur- 

311 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

ders  are  controlled  in  some  degree  by  a  morbid  desire 
to  imitate,  and  that  they  are  committed  in  cycles 
bearing  no  relation  to  the  degree  of  punishment.  In 
France,  one  of  the  Ministers  of  Justice  became  satis- 
fied that  crime  would  not  decrease  as  long  as  so  few 
prisoners  sentenced  to  the  guillotine  were  put  to  death. 
Upon  this  assumption,  during  a  period  of  twelve 
months  every  condemned  prisoner  but  one  was  be- 
headed by  "the  knife  of  the  law,"  and  the  next  year 
murders  increased  nearly  fifty  per  cent.  Those  who 
do  not  wish  to  go  to  France  for  an  illustration  should 
watch  the  papers  for  a  few  days  after  any  execution 
and  notice  what  effect  it  has  upon  the  number  of 
murders  in  this  city. 

* 

Seventh.  Montesquieu  tells  us  that  it  is  certainty 
and  not  severity  which  deters — that  excessive  severity 
hinders  the  execution  of  laws;  and  Beccaria,  that  it 
is  not  the  intensity  but  the  continuance  of  pain  that 
produces  the  greatest  effect  on  the  mind — principles 
fully  established  by  the  history  of  the  criminal  law  of 
England.  We  need  to  keep  in  mind  the  celebrated 
petition  against  punishing  with  death  the  crime  of 
forgery,  presented  to  Parliament  in  1830  by  a  thou- 

312 


BECKWITH'S    CONFESSION 

sand  bankers  located  in  214  cities  and  towns,  reciting 
that  the  petitioners  "find  by  experience  that  the  inflic- 
tion of  death,  or  even  the  possibility  of  the  infliction 
of  death,  prevents  the  prosecution,  conviction  and 
punishment  of  the  criminal,  and  thus  endangers  the 
property  which  it  is  intended  to  protect."  After  the 
execution  of  Fauntleroy,  the  lawyers  of  England  sent 
up  a  similar  petition  in  which  they  predicted  that  if 
the  Crown  were  to  cease  punishing  forgery  by  death, 
the  crime  would  become  less  frequent.  And  when 
hanging  for  that  offense  was  abolished  the  crime 
became  rare. 

So  with  the  rest  of  the  160  crimes  which  Black- 
stone  tells  us  were  formerly  punishable  in  his  country 
by  instant  death.  And  so  with  murder.  The  experi- 
ment of  abolishing  this  penalty  for  the  crime  has  been 
tried  without  bad  results  in  all  parts  of  the  globe,  in  a 
great  number  of  instances,  at  different  periods,  and 
under  diverse  conditions.  Where  the  abandonment  of 
the  penalty  has  been  immediately  followed  by  an 
increase  in  the  number  of  homicides,  investigation  has 
shown  that  the  offenders  at  the  time  the  crimes  were 
committed  had  not  learned  that  the  change  had  taken 
place.  It  is  established,  also,  that  the  restoration  of 

313 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

capital  punishment  where  it  has  once  been  abrogated 
has  not  decreased  the  number  of  murders. 

It  may  be  added  that  substantially  all  the  arguments 
now  advanced  for  the  retention  of  the  death  penalty 
for  homicide  were  urged  with  vehemence  in  the  en- 
deavor to  prevent  its  abolition  for  offenses  against 
the  laws  protecting  property,  and  coupled  with  these 
arguments  were  solemn  predictions  of  dire  calamity 
in  the  event  of  a  change. 

* 

Eighth.  We  learn  from  experience  that  when  exe- 
cutions are  most  numerous,  convictions  are  most  diffi- 
cult, and,  on  the  other  hand,  when  executions  are  least 
frequent,  convictions  are  most  readily  obtained,  so 
that  it  is  quite  impossible  to  combine  certainty  of 
punishment  with  the  death  penalty. 


Ninth.  For  some  persons,  the  penalty  of  death  has 
a  certain  fascination  arising  out  of  vainglory,  a  char- 
acteristic weakness  of  criminals.  Many  of  them  would 
readily  choose  the  scaffold,  with  its  suggestion  of  hero- 
ism and  martyrdom,  rather  than  the  penitentiary, 
which  has  no  other  meaning  than  disgrace. 

314 


BECKWITH'S     CONFESSION 

Tenth.  During  cycles  of  corruption  in  other  lands 
capital  punishment  has  been  a  menace  to  liberty,  espe- 
cially with  respect  to  that  indefinite  crime  we  call  by 
the  name  of  treason — still  a  crime  in  the  United  States. 
Had  the  venerated  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence been  men  of  less  heroic  character,  and  had 
they  been  deterred  by  this  penalty,  one  of  the  best 
pages  of  history  might  never  have  been  written.  And 
there  may  come  times  of  great  popular  excitement 
during  which  our  jury  system  will  be  found  wanting. 
Who  can  say  that  the  gibbet  will  then  be  a  respecter  of 
justice? 

* 

Eleventh.  Life  is  secure  without  the  infliction  of 
such  a  penalty: 

1.  Capital  punishment  was  almost  unknown  in  the 
Grecian  Republics;    it  was  practically  abolished  for 
250  years  in  Rome. 

2.  In  Russia,  under  Elizabeth  and  Catherine  II, 
the  right  to  punish  capitally  rested  solely  in  the  Crown 
and  was  limited  to  grave  crimes  against  the  State. 
During  the  reign  of  these  monarchs,  when  the  humane 
spirit  of  the  law  was  observed  in  good  faith,  Russia 
was  notable  for  its  few  murders. 

3.  From  1869  to  1878  there  were  but  three  execu- 

315 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

tions  each  in  Norway  and  Sweden ;  from  1870  to  1880 
but  one  in  Denmark ;  and  the  people  were  safe. 

4.  Life  is  as  secure  in  Great  Britain  now,  when  they 
hang  only  twenty-four  a  year,  as  it  was  when  they 
hanged  two  thousand  a  year.    At  one  time  executions 
in  London  were  so  frequent  that  it  was  called  "the 
city  of  the  gibbet." 

5.  For  more  than  a  year  after  the  Revolution  of 
1830  France  was  without  an  execution,  and  there  was 
no  increase  in  criminal  offenses. 

6.  Although  provided  for  by  law,  the  death  penalty 
has    not   been    inflicted    in    Finland   since    1824;   in 
Belgium    (the   most   densely   populated   country   in 
Europe),  since  1863,  when  the  present  King,  Leopold 
II,  ascended  the  throne ;  in  the  State  of  Kansas,  since 
1872.     In  these  jurisdictions  the  security  of  life  and 
property  is  well  established. 

7.  The  abolition  of  capital  punishment  was  tried 
with  success  even  in  the  days  of  ancient  Egypt. 

8.  For  the  seven  years  ending  in  1811,  Bombay, 
with  a  population  at  that  time  of  200,000,  was  with- 
out the  death  penalty,  and,  as  Sir  James  Mackintosh 
(the  Recorder  during  this  period)  declares,  without 
any  increase  in  crime. 

9.  Beginning  with  the   year   1786,  Tuscany   has 

316 


BECKWITH'S    CONFESSION 

three  times  done  away  with  capital  punishment,  and 
the  people  lived  in  peace  and  security.  In  the  inter- 
vals between  these  periods  there  has  been  practical 
abolition.  No  execution  took  place  in  that  country 
for  thirty-four  consecutive  years.  During  this  time 
Tuscany  was  filled  with  the  offscourings  of  all  Italy, 
and  yet  homicides  were  less  numerous  than  they  were 
during  a  like  period  immediately  before  as  well  as 
afterward.  Murders  in  Tuscany  have  always  been 
fewer  in  proportion  to  population  than  in  neighbor- 
ing Sicily  and  Naples,  where  this  punishment  is  in- 
flicted. Benjamin  Rush  says  that  there  were  but 
five  murders  in  twenty  years  in  Tuscany,  while  in 
Rome,  where  capital  punishment  was  retained,  there 
were  sixty  in  three  months;  and  the  manners,  princi- 
ples and  religion  of  the  two  communities  are  almost 
exactly  the  same. 

10.  The  State  of  Iowa  abolished  the  death  penalty 
in  1872.     Without  any  apparent  reason,  it  was  re- 
stored in  1878,  but  no  one  has  been  hanged  there 
since.      The   number   of  murders  per  year  did  not 
increase  during  abolition. 

11.  Several   of  the  political  subdivisions   of  Ger- 
many have  existed  for  over  a  generation  in  perfect 
safety  with  the  death  penalty  discarded  by  law;   the 

317 


THE    UPAS    THEE 

Republic  of  San  Marino,  since  1859;  Roumania, 
since  1864;  Portugal,  since  1867,  and  without  an 
execution  since  1846;  Holland,  since  1870,  and  with- 
out an  execution  since  1860;  the  Republic  of  Costa 
Rica  (by  constitution),  since  1871. 

12.  In  Switzerland  the  punishment  was  totally  ab- 
rogated by  law  in  1874.    Five  years  later  the  Cantons 
secured  the  right  to  re-establish  it,  and  seven  of  them 
did  so,  but  without  enforcing  the  law.    In  the  remain- 
ing fifteen  Cantons  the  statute  of  1874  is  still  in  force. 
The  National  Council  investigated  the  question  and 
reported  that  there  was  no  difference  in  the  number 
of  murders  whether  or  not  the  death  penalty  was  pro- 
vided by  law. 

13.  The  State  of  Michigan  abolished  the  death  pen- 
alty for  murder  in  1846.     Since  then  the  population 
of  the  State  has  greatly  increased,  but  the  number  of 
murders  has  not.     Rhode  Island  did  away  with  it  in 
1852.     In  proportion  of  murders  to  population  that 
State  has  always  compared  favorably  with  its  neigh- 
bors, Massachusetts  and  Connecticut,  where  the  pun- 
ishment is  retained. 

14.  Wisconsin  discarded  this  punishment  in  1853, 
without  decreasing  the  safety  of  the  inhabitants. 

15.  In  Maine  there  have  been  but  two  executions 

318 


BECKWITH'S     CONFESSION 

since  1837,  and  there  has  been  no  insecurity  of  the 
citizens  of  that  commonwealth.  The  penalty  existed 
as  a  matter  of  law,  under  restrictions  amounting  almost 
to  nullification,  until  1876,  when  it  was  abolished.  It 
was  restored  in  1883,  but  there  is  every  reason  to 
believe  that  the  General  Assembly  of  the  present  year 
will  again  abrogate  it.* 

But  it  is  said  by  sanguinary  supporters  of  the  pen- 
alty that  its  retention  is  necessary  to  hold  in  check 
the  criminal  classes  in  the  great  urban  centers,  and 
that  a  metropolis  like  New  York  City  is  not  safe  with- 
out it.  I  reply  that  many  large  communities  have 
lived  in  security  without  executions — Bombay,  Am- 
sterdam, Brussels,  Warsaw,  Moscow,  Odessa,  Naples, 
Milan,  Rome,  Marseilles,  Lyons,  Lisbon.  It  is  ob- 
jected that  these  cities  are  not  of  the  first  magnitude. 
I  reply :  St.  Petersburg,  Paris.  It  is  urged  that  these 
are  not  in  America,  where  murder  is  the  most  fre- 
quent. I  reply:  Milwaukee,  Detroit,  Providence.  It 
is  then  urged  that  while  these  places  are  large,  they 
are  small  compared  with  New  York  City.  I  reply: 
For  two  years,  commencing  in  1860,  capital  punish- 


*With  like  results  the  penalty  was  finally  abolished  by  Maine  in 
1887,  as  predicted  in  the  text ;  by  Italy  in  1889  ;  Norway  in  1902  ; 
Kansas  in  1907  ;  Venezuela  (by  Constitution)  in  1909 ;  Minnesota 
in  1911.— ED. 

319 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

ment  was  practically  abolished  in  the  State  of  New 
York  (including,  of  course,  New  York  City),  without 
increase  in  crime  or  decrease  of  security. 

What  is  left  to  be  said?  Only  this:  that  these 
conditions  are  experimental;  that  they  have  not  con- 
tinued for  a  sufficient  length  of  time  to  be  the  basis 
of  a  conclusion.  If  this  is  an  argument  and  not  an 
excuse,  let  me  hoist  the  objectors  with  their  own  pe- 
tard. I  will  make  a  concession.  Let  us  postpone  action 
for  a  generation  longer.  Let  all  agree  that  if  these 
conditions  should  still  exist — and  they  surely  will— 
at  that  time,  we  will  put  an  end  to  this  pernicious 
punishment. 

In  passing,  it  has  been  noted  that  lynchings  in  this 
country  are  as  common  in  those  States  where  the 
penalty  exists  as  in  those  where  it  does  not;  but  it 
has  been  shown  that  in  the  sections  where  there  are 
the  most  frequent  executions  the  greatest  number  of 
lynchings  take  place. 

So  much  for  expediency. 

In  any  given  instance  it  will  not  do  to  brush  all 
argument  aside  with  the  comment,  sometimes  heard: 
"Served  him  right!  Hanging  was  too  good  for 
him!"  Such  sentiments  proclaim  the  savage.  Re- 
venge is  the  lowest  of  our  characteristics.  This  stand- 

320 


BECKWITH'S    CONFESSION 

ard  has  been  abandoned  even  by  the  most  violent  and 
drastic  penologists.  Punishment  by  the  State,  we  are 
taught,  has  but  three  objects:  to  restore  to  the  in- 
jured, to  reform  the  criminal,  to  prevent  a  repetition 
of  the  crime.  (The  idea  of  expediency,  or  example  to 
others,  is  secondary.)  In  murder  it  is  impossible  to 
restore  to  the  injured.  The  death  penalty  prevents 
the  reformation  of  the  criminal,  but  it  does  effectively 
stop  repetition.  If,  however,  repetition  can  be  pre- 
vented by  imprisonment,  hanging  is  without  an  apol- 
ogy. The  modern  prison  is  amply  sufficient,  whatever 
may  have  been  true  in  former  days.  If  we  can  restrain 
the  homicidal  madman,  we  ought  to  be  able  to  control 
the  ordinary  murderer. 

The  main  argument  against  capital  punishment — 
certainly  the  one  which  most  appeals  to  me — is  now 
in  order.  From  the  time  of  Calvary  to  the  present  day 
innocent  men  have  been  put  to  death.  We  are  told  by 
Mittermaier  of  guiltless  persons  executed  in  Italy, 
France  and  Germany.  He  speaks  of  a  condemned 
man,  afterwards  proved  innocent,  concerning  whose 
case  Baron  Martin,  the  trial  judge,  said:  "The  evi- 
dence was  about  the  clearest  and  most  direct  that, 
after  a  long  course  of  experience  in  the  administra- 
tion of  criminal  justice,  I  have  ever  known." 

321 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

Chief  Baron  Kelly  says  that  from  1802  to  1840 
he  traced  twenty-two  men  who  were  wrongly  convicted 
of  murder  in  England,  seven  of  whom  were  hanged; 
Mackintosh  (referred  to  before),  a  conservative  man, 
says  that  in  the  same  country,  taking  a  long  period 
of  time,  one  innocent  man  is  hanged  in  every  three 
years. 

I  venture  the  assertion  that  the  thousands  who  were 
put  to  death  (at  the  stake  and  otherwise)  for  witch- 
craft were  not  guilty  of  the  crime  with  whict  they 
were  charged. 

Again,  there  is  no  way  of  ascertaining  to  a  cer- 
tainty the  guilt  of  anyone  charged  with  murder. 

Felonious  intent  is  the  essence  of  the  crime.  The 
jury  must  determine,  then,  in  each  instance,  the  state 
of  -inind  of  the  accused.  In  many  cases  this  is  a  diffi- 
cult task,  and  in  not  a  few  the  verdict  is  a  mere 
guess. 

A  confession  of  guilt,  if  voluntary,  would  seem  to 
be  strong  evidence ;  but,  by  way  of  illustrating  a  gen- 
eral rule,  it  will  be  remembered  that  a  number  of  men 
confessed  to  the  murder  of  Nathan  in  this  city,  all 
of  whom  were  innocent.  In  some  cases  of  acknowl- 
edged murder  the  supposed  victim  has  turned  out  to 

322 


BECKWITH'S    CONFESSION 

be  still  alive,  and  in  at  least  one  instance  interrupted 
the  trial. 

Whatever  may  be  the  testimony  of  a  witness,  it 
cannot  be  certain  to  a  demonstration,  in  most  cases, 
that  he  is  not  committing  perjury  or  is  not  mistaken. 

Nor  is  there  any  certainty  about  the  action  of  a 
jury.  On  the  same  evidence  one  jury  would  convict 
and  another  acquit. 

And  again,  even  in  those  cases  where  the  murder 
is  proved  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  most  exact  mind, 
there  is  no  way  of  determining  whether  the  culprit 
was  sane  when  he  committed  the  act.  If  insanity  is 
present,  the  very  nature  of  the  disease  often  leads  the 
offender  to  conceal  its  symptoms. 

If  a  man  of  normal  mind  should  commit  murder  and 
be  convicted,  it  cannot  be  known  absolutely  whether 
at  the  time  of  his  hanging  he  is  still  mentally  sound. 
Yet  our  nature  revolts  at  the  thought  of  hanging  a 
man  who  is  insane,  and  the  law  does  not  permit  his 
execution. 

To  the  hanging  of  women  there  is  a  special  objec- 
tion. More  than  one  instance  is  related  of  an  unborn 
child  being  destroyed  at  the  same  time  with  the  mother. 
Such  a  result  may  be  avoided,  but  the  objection  illus- 

323 


THE     UPAS     TREE 

trates  what  all  these  facts  accentuate,  the  difficulties 
that  surround  the  infliction  of  this  penalty.  Through- 
out history  man  has  been  endeavoring  to  devise  some 
decent  method  of  putting  a  brother  to  death  in  cold 
blood.  Hanging  is  preferred  to  other  methods  because 
it  does  not  literally  shed  blood ;  but  a  bungling  hang- 
man or  a  faulty  rope  may  make  it  the  most  revolting. 
Untried  methods  are  not  adopted  because  of  their 
uncertainty. 

What  Nature  has  rendered  so  difficult  man  should 
accept  as  forbidden. 


THE  END 


..SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  058  232     o 


